Goodbye, Moody Tuesday

Feeling very odd today, all day, for reasons I still don't quite get. Yes, as ever, it was raining when I got up and Steve had already turned off the alarm clock without (somehow) noticing--he didn't get up and exercise yesterday, either, if you're wondering; yes, I ran to get Cal to Daycare at a reasonable hour, then spent about an hour decompressing and fielding some sort of vague panic attack. The good part is that I finally got to the gym (after two days off), and did a fairly good just under two hours' work--fifteen on the elliptical, half an hour of weights, a full BodyFlow class--and Steve picked Cal up (late). The bad part is that I spent the rest of the afternoon feeling knocked out, doing things sllloooowly and inefficiently, while Cal ran around singing unintelligible bits of Feist's "My Moon, My Man" in his underwear. Didn't write, though I did figure out how to make sure "Strange Weight" does full justice to Mac Roke as a character of many inherent conflicts. Etc.

Oh, and on the fannish side of things: Not happy about what was in the box (Prison Break), plus STILL not understanding the general kerfuffle about Heroes--man, if you don't like it so much, don't watch it. Those are pretty much the options. Don't just sit there whining/h8tin' and post about it afterwards--like, GET UP AND CHANGE THE CHANNEL, then shut the Hell up before I find you and punch you. Holy Christ, how hard can it possibly be?

Other news? Happy Birthday, sovay! Also, I managed to find about fifteen illegally taped minutes' worth of Mother of Tears on Youtube, and am very amused to discover it plays like a Graham Masterton adaptation. And those are the haps, my friends. Now fuck off!