This Wednesday is a wordy one...

But, first, a happy picture. There's a dog in my house!

My house has found a new purpose: Doggy Day Care. When it's going to be a long work day, we bring the little girlie to my house for the day. It's in the area in which we work, so she's not stuck in the house for 14 hours without a break. It's really nice to come home and find a dog happily wagging her entire back end simply because I've shown up.

In other news, we've joined LA Fitness. Yes, *the* LA Fitness. It is a beautiful facility. The new aerobics room is bright, with mirrors on all walls and a new wood floor that springs back when you step on it. I will be honest, I really can't be in that room without seeing, in my mind, spent bullets on the floor. I think it's because I've seen large amounts of blood, and I've seen people die in ways they shouldn't have, and I've dealt with mass chaos all before - but never have I seen handfuls of spent bullets on a shiny wood floor. To this day, that is the image that sticks with me. Weird.

I got the free workout-slash-sales pitch from the personal trainer Monday. I will admit, it was a shorter and more effective workout than what I have been doing. However, the cost of working out with a trainer 5 days a week equaled my mortgage payment, so I will continue to do things the uninformed rube way. I did decide to work on a body part per day so that I am doing something different Monday-Friday.

Something the trainer pointed out, that I kinda/sorta knew in the back of my mind, was that I wasn't getting enough protein every day. This wasn't news to me. I've been tired and bonking every day at 3pm. So, off to GNC I go. The whey protein shakes I got are pretty decent and can mix with water. I have noticed a difference in my hunger and energy levels when using them the past couple of days.

I am still out of sorts as far as my routine. Every time I leave to go somewhere, anywhere, I feel like I am packing for vacation. I always have a bag of clothes with me. Gym clothes. Change of clothes. Uniform. I have duplicates of things I really need at my house and Dan's. Hair spray. Kashi bars. Deodorant. Muir Glen organic soups. Hair Dryer. I have THREE FUCKING HAIR DRYERS. Nobody who's not a hair stylist should have to own three hair dryers. However, in order to cut down on the toting around and packing of bags, I have one at my house, I have one at Dan's house, and I have one that now lives in the gym bag.

The gym bag. Simple concept. Stuff you use at the gym and after. You think it's simple. Until you have to go from a place where most of your belongings don't live, to the gym, and then to work for 12 hours. You realize that yes, you may have a sample-size body wash, but nothing with which to dry off. Or to floof your hair. Or to deodorize your sweaty bod. Or to paint one's face. Oh, to be a guy and need so little. To pee outside and laugh at your farts. But, alas, my plumbing and pysche dictate that I smell good and feel clean and my hair is floofed when I face the world. I got up at 5am. My timeline in my mind had me at Wal-Mart buying necessities for a stocked gym bag until 5:40, then working out from 5:50-7am, then showering and heading to work. The gym bag stocking mission ran until almost 6:30 (I should have known the shampoo aisle alone takes me 20 minutes, what with all the opening and smelling of scents), and there was no gym trip that day.

However, now there is a fully-stocked and dedicated gym bag, in which resides everything I need to transition from gym to work, or even a week's trip if I have access to laundry facilities.

It's the little things.