100 days of wicked recovery

We have had a minor shift in the weather since yesterday. I was sort of inclined yesterday to do some projects in the house. You know, like the dishes and maybe some laundry. But the weather was so beautiful and I just had a feeling we were coming to the end of it so I went to the Arboretum instead.


I sat on the swing for a while, walked the paths, took some pictures, and stared at the clouds. It was warm and peaceful and perfect.

This morning, Regis went for a walk at 6am. He said he heard the wind and rain slapping the window and decided that I would probably not want to venture out. He was right.

I am going to write this post and then go to the basement to forage for a winter coat, hat, and mittens. My exercise options this morning are to go swimming or to walk, inside or outside. I am choosing outside. What better way to blow some cobwebs out of the mind that a cold and windy walk.

Tomorrow will be the anniversary of 100 days since I last let liquor touch my lips. Well. except for the accidental taste at the Hooligan's concert. Tim said that doesn't count. So, happy 100 days to me.


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