Striking out on my own

Joanie wasn't feeling very festive today, and Little Dude wasn't feeling very good. He'd first complained last night, before he had to go to Scouts. But it was the annual Turkey Day skit, and Joanie thought he was just feeling a little nervous.

By this morning, he wasn't feeling any better, and Joanie decided he should stay home. So I was on my own for the day. Fortunately, I'd decided to keep the Envoy for the week instead of turning it in, so I hopped into the car and headed downtown.

First, of course, came the run. I decided to go running for a second day in a row, something I haven't done in years. I soon found out why. I tried to take a different, more flat route, but I learned that there isn't one within two thousand miles. So I was reduced to more of a run/walk than yesterday, and felt it much more. My feet were sore, my calves were sore, my thighs were sore, and odly, so was my butt. "Keep this up," I thought, "and you'll have one tight butt."

After a shower, I headed out to breakfast, and a conference call. Back home, we were still trying to line up a real estate agent to represent a property of ours, and I didn't want to lose the opportunity. So while I waited for my French Toast, I sat on a long-distance conversation that involved me listening to other people talking. Fun.

After breakfast (at noon), I hopped on the 15 and headed south. I headed west on the 8, then got off at SDSU. Turning right at El Cajon, I headed toward downtown. Eventually, I wound up at Seaport Village, where I spent as much time walking around (ninety minutes) as I did sitting in traffic on the way back to Joanie's. By the time I walked in the door, I was hungry and grouchy. Thank heaven that Joanie had beer in the fridge that she offered; I needed one.