I want to hang a laminated piece of paper with a Sharpie-on-a-rope in our shower. All my best ideas come to me while I’m soaping up. What is it? Being naked? The warmth? The Zen Chanting CD I’ve been playing in the background lately? (Although from underneath the water, it sounds like the monks are exhaling “Arrrrrr-maaahhh-nniiiii come pay moooorrrrre”.) Most likely it’s the large quantities of black coffee I drink for hours before I finally motivate to get ready for work.
As it is, without the writable wallpaper in the bathroom, I end up rushing dripping wet from the shower to the computer to jot down notes–praying that the idea of someone hacking into the little camera that’s built into the top of the screen is actually an urban legend. Just in case, I tilt the LCD way back so if anyone could see me, they’d be getting me from the collar bone up. Ahh, the things our Grandparents never had to worry about.
This morning’s shower brought memories of the 8am Weight Watchers (WW) meeting I’d been to earlier in the day. I lost .8 of a pound. I’m sincerely satisfied with that fact. Hey, lose .8 of a pound enough weeks in a row and soon you’ll be underweight.
I like the 8am WW. The leader (Take me to your leader) does a great job with the Socratic method; although, the downside of that is that there’s almost too much discussion about doughnuts and thin mints and bread and burritos. Ultimately, she does a good job of wrangling a helpful lesson out of our most decadent cravings and scrumptiously guilt filled memories. Besides, how can I blame her for letting the talk linger over linguini? Sitting around fetishizing food goes back centuries before Mona Lisa’s tiramisu; it’s got to be expected at a WW meeting, right?