Sleep
Last night I had a dream I worked in a furniture store. This is no big stretch because I LOVE LOVE LOVE furniture stores.
But I had a secret life. By night…I was a zombie hunter. I don't want to brag, but I saved a lot of lives. But man, it was a ton of work. Especially because I knew I had to be back up the next morning selling some La-Z-Boys.
I believe the Lord sometimes speaks in dreams.
So. I think we all know what this means.
When the Zombie Apocalypse hits…I'm your girl.
Actually I picture the Z.A. involving a whole militia of zombie hunters. I really hope I'm not the leader. I'm not really leader material. I'm more of a follower. Followers get to take more breaks.
Please don't be jealous of my new future role in the saving of mankind. We can't all sell sectional sofas and chase the undead.
This morning I was supposed to get up at 4:30, for my thrice-weekly workout with a group of mutually insane people. Except for the last few months I haven't been able to get up and around consistently. It's pretty pathetic. I have a workout buddy too. But do we hold each other accountable or inspire one another? No. We inspire each other to stay in our respective homes and sleep an extra 2 hours. It's awful. Something has got to change.
I decided I need the trainer to call me at 4:30 in the morning and just yell at me. Just go all Jillian Michaels Biggest Loser on me.
Yelling negativities at 4:30 in the morning would be so motivating.
I'm pretty sure the trainer doesn't want the job though.
So if you're obnoxiously loud and mean, and don't mind getting up before hens and chickens and roosters and crack dealers, then please give me a call. I think I have a job for you.
Because this isn't just about me working on my fitness.
No, the stakes are much higher now.
Because now. Now I know I'm in training…to save the world.
