… it’s the end of the … well, nothing really; I know nothing and I feel fine …

If it’s Christmas week … must be near time for all those end of the year lists and if it’s this peaceful, it must be Boonsboro … adventures in house-sitting and Judah sleepovers continued … and what is up with all these ladybugs?

gym guys 3 EDITI never did go to the gym yesterday. Here was the calculation: it takes twenty minutes to drive into town, then, having arrived, another ten-ish – depending on traffic – to get from highway exit to gym. Once there, after having worked out for the required ninety minutes and showered and saunaed for another thirty or more depending on the looks of the population therein, I would then have stopped at the grocery store – which is at least a thirty minute adventure – and I thought I really needed to do so because I wanted some iced tea. Once inside Wegman’s, I’d have determined that I should pick something up for dinner. I’d have spent money and calories on something pre-made, probably added a bag of chips and dessert to the cart along the way, and so by having gone to the gym I would not only have lost something in the area of four hours of Judah and reading and in the middle of nowhere quiet and peace hours – but also ended up in a calories ingested > calories burned situation for the day. Going to they gym would have resulted in weight gain and so, it was only sensible to continue being a couch slug. Which doesn’t get me any closer to hot naked men, but then again, does the gym REALLY help – or, just dangle (so to speak) what I will never have nor be in front of me?

How much better to stay here, way out in the middle of what passes for nowhere in these parts, slog up and down the driveway a few times to return the emptied trash and recycling cans to their rightful place in the garage, and eat one of the many diet dinners from the freezer?  Bonus: I found teabags and made my own iced tea. Best. Day. Ever.

Gym guys 2 EDITGranted, there was no possibility of seeing hot, naked men in shower and sauna, or surreptitiously spying on those grunting home for the holidays college types in the free-weight section, but, you know, those guys are all just as likely to speak with me and live out any of my imaginary scenarios as are the infinitely buffer ones available on multiple websites – and website boys don’t require that I actually exert enough effort to sweat for ninety minutes to justify taking the before-sauna-shower and sauna and after-sauna-shower so – WIN WIN.

Thus, I saw no hot men yesterday. In fact, I did not see nor speak to even ONE other human being. I did converse some with Judah, and he did some sighing and grunting and even shared a bark or two, but, mostly we remained quiet; reading, napping, SNACKING. And a little TV watching … and web-trolling …

teen wolf…speaking of which, speaking of locker rooms and hot guys and T.V. – Teen Wolf returns with new episodes January 6 and once again my passions have predicted the zeitgeist as the front and center character in the newest ad campaign is NOT one of the wolves, not the title character, but the hot-nerd-best-friend, Stiles as played by the incredibly sexy Dylan O’Brien.

obrien dylan -theinternship-02O’Brien has an aura of ambiguous and plastic, needy uber-sexuality and the added allure of a bromance vibe with co-star Tyler Hoechlin – all of which has conflated to make him a HUGE sensation – and all of that despite the fact that he is practically the ONLY male actor on the show who has NOT had his shirt off EVEN ONCE. Luckily, the internet exists to remedy that situation . . .

Speaking of situations … and no I am not going THERE (but you can by clicking HERE) … this morning I woke to find what I thought were un-popped popcorn kernels here and there on the kitchen floor. Except, I soon realized, I hadn’t popped (or NOT popped) any popcorn and so that couldn’t be what these were. On closer inspection, turns out the place is LITTERED with dead LADYBUGS. What?

Listen, we know I’m a little crazy, so when I wake in the middle of nowhere country and the floor is littered with dead insects and I haven’t really seen nor spoken to another human being in more than 24 hours – I start with the end of days sort of shit. You know, the ladybugs are super-sensitive to some lethal gas which has somehow infected the atmosphere and in due time we will all start dropping like – Ladybugs? Technically known as COCCINELLIDAE –

LadyBug infestation

My collection of dead ladybugs … shit … one of them just MOVED!

…because I started Googling to try to figure out WHY all of a sudden there was a carpet of them and if anyone else anywhere else was experiencing this phenomenon and . . . well, after many a convoluted – nay, death defying – synaptic leap, I arrived at the conclusion that this infestation (the perfectly logical seasonal weather inspired explanation for which I have chosen to ENTIRELY ignore) is a sign from the universe that I am about to be DROWNING in good luck and fortune. Although, thinking that – and being me – resulted in this: “Wait, good fortune? If things are going my way then surely the next logical occurrence is THE END OF THE WORLD! after all.” And the REM song started dancing in my head.

Did you ever actually READ the lyrics for this song? I did, this morning. Wow. I have to say I find them oddly relevant – even more so now, perhaps, than when first recorded. In any event, end of the world or not, it is the end of the year, and I am being bombarded by all these “best of” lists – particularly those of a literary bent – and this proliferation is making me feel anxious. I confess: I did not read 100 books this year. Usually 100 is my minimum. I came nowhere close. I did, however, go to the gym almost every day – or – well – okay – pretty much every day – and I did lose weight and tone my body – and I did come to some emotional closures and I did –gym guys 5 edit

But see – this is one of those END OF YEAR summations – and I HATE them because I think time is an illusion – finally – and another of the arbitrary ways in which we divide and label because we are afraid of the ALL of all that is and must somehow divide the circle of being into tiny bite-size portions which – I think – distort and deflect and distract and  – well – I won’t – don’t – NOT GOOD AT IT – sort of – and –

I think I’d better go to the gym and look for some naked guys to get me through the New Year . . . or at least until January 6 when Teen Wolf comes back with new episodes . . . oh my . . .

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