I must admit I was spectacularly lazy this weekend. I watched movies, read one and a half books, and that was about it. I might have managed to throw in two loads of laundry and drag myself to the sink to do dishes once.
I don't know what got into me. I lacked motivation of ANY kind. I didn't want to write. I didn't want to scrapbook. I most assuredly did not want to clean the house. No, a near-vegetative state seemed to be about all I could summon.
Wait! I did get off my lazy butt! I went to an hour-long kickboxing aerobics class on Saturday and it totally destroyed me. My muscles are still aching. I could hardly walk yesterday, which is why the husband asked me if I had a corn cob stuck up my...
You get the idea.
I don't know why I thought I could survive an hour's worth of cardiovascular and light weights. I haven't seriously exercised in ages. It's a miracle I didn't have a heart attack. I know I certainly felt as I were in mortal danger a few times there when my face felt hot with exertion, which is why I took extra water breaks.
Strangely enough I'm intending to go back and do the same thing all over again tomorrow.
I am insane.