...in Hell. Negative 9 this morning again, traffic slower than going backwards, the sun up in a sky so clear it made your eyes water, and Denver still hadn't plowed a big chunk of the roads to my office. I'm walking over the compacted snow that the businesses haven't even tried to scrape off their sidewalks, despite city ordinances, wondering how on earth early man survived weather like this. We have no fur, and our feet are tender - it makes no sense that we were supposed to live in this climate.
I am in a bad mood. Weight up - no surprise, really; we went for Mexican last night, including chips, and I had enchiladas with corn tortillas. 144.4 this morning - not a huge gain, but taking the long view, I'm up 3 pounds from Saturday morning. I'm stress-eating these days, which is not helping one bit. With my parents mired in estate settlement for a distant cousin out in California and needing help on site (flying out this weekend to spend 2 days painting and go to the funeral), my daughter in another state fighting vertigo issues, and the weather here being oh-so-wintry, I've just had it. Oh, and I have a 4-hour meeting this afternoon with people who drive me stark mad on a good day. My every atom is screaming at me to run away and join a circus, preferably in Florida or something.
I guess tonight, I cut up a few more blocks of cheese into bite sized pieces (not, mind you, the nasty raw-milk one we tried on Sunday afternoon - it was disgusting) and try to keep to them, rather than going for chips or nuts.