32 Lbs

I have no clean underwear. In fact, excepting the fly-less, too-small pair I’m wearing now (a gift that an ex brought me from Japan), there isn’t a pair of undies anywhere in the apartment. Not one. So what does that mean?

Well, primarily it means that I have to get to the laundromat tomorrow to pick up the 32 pounds (I kid you not) of wash-n-fold I dropped off yesterday. Which means I have to do so before work. Which means I have to get my ass outa’ the house at a reasonable hour. So I might as well go running.

Which could be a little challenging as a) I haven’t run since last Thursday b) I’ve had four beers tonight while watching ‘S.W.A.T.’ on DVD (I know, I know — total guy movie) c) it’s practically midnight now and d) it’s f’in cold outside!

So that’s the state of things here on 56th Street.

Oh, and I got my guaranteed entry to the New York City Marathon, my fifth. So I guess it’s time to start training. Heck, it’s only a little more than nine months away…

Oy. I need a nap.