Cold Turkey

  
I am running a 5k with my mom on Thanksgiving. 

My mom runs half-marathons. She wants to run one in every state in the union. She’s actually got about a dozen taken care of. I think she’s saving Hawaii for last. So when I say I’m running a 5k, with my mom, on a national holiday, you can assume I’m fucking serious. I set up a training schedule while I was at work this morning: going for a run every other day until the three days proceeding the race, then 3 days in a row of running, then the actual 5k. My goal is to be trained enough to finish the race running, not walking like a little bitch. 

Whee, it’s 5am and I’m swearing like a sailor. Not out loud, in front of New Coworker, but swearing nevertheless. 

Multiple people left the Company this week, although all I know about their departures are rumors and  heresay. I am surprised the bosses haven’t made some sort of announcement about it, but I also suppose it’s not really any of my business. In any case, I ended up taking two extra shifts this weekend, so I may actually make enough money from the next pay period to pay off my credit card and do a little early Xmas shopping. I’m buying for very few people this year, and I don’t feel bad about it. Instead, I’m sending a lot of cards. Good ones, too. 

My god I am excited to go home and sleep and not even bother to set my alarm. I will sleep as long as I want to, and then get up and go for a run at the gym. Take THAT, fears of inadequacy! Eat a dick, fears of looking fat and foolish in a race setting!

What are you doing this year to fuck your fear, loyal reader?