Bullshit. I can control everything. Watch me.
If I have one pet peeve about my job, it's that it relies so heavily on a chain of people doing their job first. Some of that chain is eliminated by the fact that I often work alone or with only one other person, so once something crosses my desk I have essentially complete control over what happens from that point. I like control. Here is a song for you to enjoy. I'm currently obsessed with this artist.
Halsey "Control"
Last night I got to beat my head against the desk after two different units jumped down my throat because they didn't have something they needed instantaneously. Now, I'm am fucking great at my job. I would lay money I have the fastest fucking turnaround in the system. I never let stuff sit. I anticipate. I interpret. And when shit goes down? I am in control.
Except that sometimes I need a crucial piece of information to do my job. Like a weight. I literally can't send you an antibiotic with a weight based dose without a weight. And yelling at me doesn't tell me how much the patient weighs. You can insert a primal scream here. I might have actually screamed into a jacket last night. Maybe.
At any rate, it was an active and hectic night. That means my dinner was delayed significantly, and once I started eating I couldn't stop. I'm a stress eater, what can I say. I could rule the fucking world if you gave me a 5# bag of peanut M&Ms. Luckily I packed a huge lunch.
Which I ate all in basically one sitting. One long sitting, but still.
In addition I had eggs and bacon from the cafeteria when it opened at 0630. The bacon was disappointing. No snap. I like my bacon to melt in my mouth. Floppy bacon is not okay.
So when I came home I vented my frustration at fantastic husband, who was sympathetic. He's great at listening to me rant. It helps that since he works rescue he actually gets what I'm talking about. He's a good code debriefer, too. I try to return the favor whenever I can. This is one of my favorite things about our relationship...I can come home and shout at him for 20 minutes and he just says "Do you feel better?" and I do. I do feel better.
Then I went to sleep. Like I do. I slept pretty well and fairly long, so I decided to brave the 415 WOD at the box. I snarfed down a red pepper and a Wellabar before heading out (use your imagination).
Today we practiced cycling cleans from hang position. 7 reps every 90 seconds for 7 rounds, adding weight each round. This is essentially bashing the bar against your thighs, then collarbones, then thighs, then collarbones over and over with increasingly heavy weight. By the 7th round I was basically at "Ow...ow...OW...ow...OMFGOW" I don't see bruises on my collarbones yet (maybe my elbows were fast enough today?!?) but the ones on my thighs are already surfacing. I'm pretty much going to look like someone hit me with an aluminum bat. Which, if you think about it, is basically what happened.
Then we did the WOD. I forgot my water bottle, so I drank the iced coffee I had in the car. Word of advice? Don't drink Deathwish as your hydration during a workout. I felt as though my heart was going to explode.
Have you heard the good news about our lord and savior, Cold Brew Deathwish?
After the WOD I hustled home because fantastic husband said those two little words that drive all the ladies wild. "Steak tacos" I had some corn chips with my pile of steak, black beans, grilled peppers, tomatoes, cheese, and sour cream. You might ask "What? No guac?" but I didn't have to make this so I ain't complaining, you dig?
Window of gains, brah.
So to recap, I worked...I slept...I lifted weights...I came home to a hot meal...and now I'm sitting on my ass watching Wheel of Fortune. Is this what it was like to be a dude in the 1950s? Because if it is, I totally get why men resisted feminism. All I need is a cocktail and a hot secretary to bang. I would've been a shit housewife...though if I'm honest I probably would've ended up a spinster because who the fuck would want to be saddled with this raging pyre of crazy? (I love you, baby, please don't ever leave me.)
Also I'm eating some grapes. Great batch at Costco this week. Crunchy as fuck.
I like a snappy grape, don't you?
I ate so much today. Seriously. Enough to feed a small army. A really small army. Like, an army made up of three small soldiers. But it was all actual food, and heavy on the veg and protein, so I don't feel bad about it. There was a small amount of shock when I checked the boxes and was like...uhhhhh.
Oh shit. I forgot a protein. Oops.
Two more shifts. Tomorrow the kids are at daycare and the dog is at Fun Camp, so once I'm home I get a wall of silence for about 8 hours. Then it's off to CF kids and maybe a workout for me if I'm feeling ambitious. If not I'll 5x5 it at home...or maybe both. Guess it depends on when I wake up.
Next Thursday is the first day of school. I can't wait. The kids are so excited and I am jacked to have my day back. Mid-day yoga? Running? Morning workouts? I can't wait to do it aaaaalllllll without three little stomachs in tow.
Did you know you have to feed kids like 5 times a day? It's exhausting.
My birthday is in 8 days. I will except any and all gifts of food.
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