Welcome to the Jungle

All right, this is just redonkulous.


When I got back to San Diego on Saturday, I had a hard time finding my house. Seriously. I got lost twice on my way to the front door and narrowly escaped being eaten by a puma.

Because my yard is apparently now a jungle.

Those damn boys.

But it's not like I can complain. Scott did, after all, shake out the crumbs in the toaster and (allegedly) vacuum the patio. And Nev, bless his little heart, made sure there wasn't a drop of alcohol anywhere in the house just in case I might be tempted to unwind or something while I'm on break.

So I spent all day yesterday weeding the front yard, even though I'm quite sure this activity is not going to help my back heal any faster. I had a friend help me, and even Nev pitched in. He turned on the water to soak the weeds, and in the process gave my computer and couch a bath. Then he took a nap in my honor (it was a rough day for him, what with having to carry a hose from the back yard to the front and all).

Anyway, it felt quite productive, probably the most work I've done all month.


Only now, my hands hurt from all the pulling and my legs are sore.

What the.....

I haven't worked out for 3 weeks, and suddenly my muscles get sore from something as silly as pulling weeds?

This is not good.

My body is going to mush right before my eyes.

Which is why today is day 1 of The Great Detox. I have to do something soon, because somehow I don't think eating everything in sight and not working out is going to do the trick. The trick, of course, is me being able to button up my pants.


Urgghhhhhhhhh.......If it's not a battle through the jungle it's a battle through my closet.

Will it ever end?