1. I decided to call the Motherfucker, Rose Petals instead. Judging by yesterday's post, I really need the word motherfucker again, and I think that to some extent I need to move on from this. It's been nine months and three weeks but who's counting. So, for old times sake, one last one: Fuck you, Mothefucker! And moving on to: Fuck you, Rose Petals!
2. My running partner will be able to run again in three weeks. It's been a while since I've been so happy and so truly and utterly relieved. So happy and relieved that when I found out I started to squeal and jump up and down and squeal some more, to the utter embarrassment of the colleague that told me the good news, and to the utter bewilderment of the passers-by (we were on the main street, going to lunch). Life is good.
2. My running partner will be able to run again in three weeks. It's been a while since I've been so happy and so truly and utterly relieved. So happy and relieved that when I found out I started to squeal and jump up and down and squeal some more, to the utter embarrassment of the colleague that told me the good news, and to the utter bewilderment of the passers-by (we were on the main street, going to lunch). Life is good.
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