You know, I'm starting to think that scheduling a PT session for 8:00 am every Monday morning may not be such a good idea. There's something inherently suspect about starting one's work week being manipulated by a strong young sailor almost to the point of tears*. Not real tears, of course; more like, "yeah, there's fluid pooling in the corners of my eyes but I'm not really crying or anything" tears.
Shit, no wonder I'm having mood issues.
So this marks the start of my seventh week of PT. Seventh of... who knows? I have been making measurable progress but it's slow going. I've been trying to figure out why I haven't been doing my stretches at home, and I think I've found the answer. Picture this: End of a long day, dinner is cooked and eaten, other chores completed. I can finally sit on the couch and stare at something mindless and amusing on the TV... or I can go upstairs and hurt myself because I'm supposed to.
I don't know about you, but that's not much of a choice in my book. Or is it just me? Don't answer that.
* Sounds much more fun than is it, unfortunately.