Oh, guys. I’ve had just about the loveliest day. And that’s even with having to haul myself out of bed at 5:13 to go and sort the alarm at work out.
That early start meant I started a whole 45 minutes later than usual (which actually equated to an extra hour and a half in bed, thanks to my usual ludicrous time keeping) and overall shortened my day.
A day in work that was spent mostly on Healthcare and in the Dispensary, where I’m finally starting to find my feet. I’m panicking much less these days, and think I have finally reached a point in my life where I have accepted that there is no shame in asking for help. I’ve had problems with that since primary school, so I’m glad that at the age of 24 I can take a small knock to my pride for the sake of getting everything right. Maybe ask me in a few months when I’m knee deep in revision for a test on cough and cold medication though, I might be panicking a bit more then.
After work I had planned to go straight to the gym, but then my chap happened to call and ask if I wanted to go for a coffee. Yes. Obviously. Don’t be ridiculous, why would I say no? So we went and sat in Costa for about an hour and a half, which was very nice indeed.
But because I am a FUCKING CHAMPION, after we’d said our farewells I then went and officially joined the Saturday Night Gym Loser club by did an hour of working out, before I realised it was 8:30pm on a Saturday night and I was in the gym and that this is what my life is now. Luckily, the results so far have been pretty noticeable, and it’s doing wonders for helping my find to stay clear and focused when needs be. Yay gyms.
And now I get to go to bed, safe in the knowledge that I get to spend all of tomorrow with my chap, even if it does mean waking up at stupid o’clock on my day off to go and have breakfast together. Because *that* is what love is.