Triple A

Our car battery died last night. All in all, it wasn't the worst case scenario, since the car was sitting in our driveway and our urgent trip du jour involved going to the grocery store for a movie and a frozen pizza. Still, it chapped my ass since I really wanted that pizza. The AAA guy is here now, replacing the battery. He is simultaneously challenging my manhood, but I'm too mucous-plugged to care. Let Natalie deal with it.

All this talk about drained energy has served as a cogent pharos for my own lackluster fitness with respect to the impending 26.2 mile voyage. May the fleas of a thousand camels rise up and infest my crotch if I don't do a long run in the next two weeks. It probably won't happen this weekend since there's a race tomorrow, and I may not run at all unless things start looking up flu-wise.

PS - I'm not blaming the vaccine anymore since I got the killed version.