And now is part where we dance

...because I'm bound and determined to not be mopey.

So. I haven't been to the gym in 2 weeks--not since we turned in the rental car that we had while Genghis' car was in the shop. I asked Genghis once if he would take me to the gym, and the reaction was about what I expected: a no. Because, of course, he only has so much time off from work and he has things he wants to do and he doesn't want to have to ferry me all over half the ferk ding blastin' Triangle.

I've resumed walking around the call center on breaks and at lunch, with occasional forays up to the 3rd floor to visit a friend of mine who works in sales, but it's not the same. I don't feel the same sense of accomplishment from the breaktime meanderings that I feel when I've been on the treadmill for half an hour and the bikes for as long as I can last (i.e. until my legs turn to jello) and so on. The compliments from co-workers are nice. The attaboys are good too. But it's not the same. WANT MOAR FIT PLZ.

So to rectify the situation I'm finally (now that the Department of Edumacation has finally told the Treasury Department to stop taking my tax refunds) sitting down to file my income taxes for the last six-odd years, and I'm going to use the refund money to see if I can't make a down payment on a car. Not some cheap-ass hooptie that'll fall apart, but something decent.

It's all part of the Master Plan.