This weekend was just "one of those weekends". By "one of those weekends" I mean, cry at the drop of a hat at random and not so random times. Like a blown fuse. You know, it always feels so random when a fuse blows, yet when you really think about it after wards you realize that you had every light in the house on, a straightener plugged in and a blow dryer going. It felt good to cry. It felt even better knowing I have a husband that knows me well enough to just let me get it out. He doesn't judge me, or stare at me like I'm crazy. Instead, he'll get up from his chair, walk over to me and just let me cry it out, until there's no more tears... or until he makes a joke in between sobs that makes it impossible to continue. This guy, I tell ya. While I wish the reason for the crying mattered, it really doesn't. I don't think it really matters what triggered the tears because I think they just needed to get the heck out. Needless to say, I feel better.
On a similar, yet very different note, I have a new goal. I'm attempting to run 19 three mile runs between this past Sunday and Thanksgiving - one a day. We leave the day after for our much needed getaway to Hawaii so I thought what better way to get my butt in gear. Even if I don't shed a pound, I will be more mentally prepared to put on a swimsuit. That's good enough for me. So far, I have been meeting my objective - 4 days in a row! However, yesterday could have gone bad. I blew a fuse. One whole side of our house was powerless. Ty wasn't home, which meant I was too. I had no idea where the fuse box even was in our house. I finally found it in the garage. After attempting to switch the switches and click the clickers twice, I had made zero progress. Ty was an hour away from being home and it was already 8:30. I'll be honest. I almost gave up. I didn't. Ty got home at 9:30, did his magic and I was up and at 'em doing my 3 miles.
What would I do without him?
Apparently I'd be living in the dark, crying.