Wow, I just realized what a fricking glutton I was today.

I got to work about a half-hour late after padding around my apartment this morning for too long. I left work at 3:00 to check out a potential conference site in St. Paul, and that was done by around 3:45. With no intention of returning to work, I decided to hit the local gym. You see, my gym is a chain with branches that have infested the Twin Cities like sweaty pustules--they pop up in the most surprising of places, such as the fifth floor of an old hotel in downtown St. Paul. (?)

I got all the way to the gym when I realized that I had workout shorts, T-shirt, underwear, socks, walkman, etc. but NO tennis shoes. I was not about to do my workout in my Steve Madden clown shoes, so I decided to just drive around the city a bit. I have always loved St. Paul, but I've never had any reason to even think of hanging out there.

After a meander across Harriet Island, I ended up back in the city and browsing through the sale racks at Marshall Field. $100 later I had some new wardrobe items and a slightly lifted ego after a guy kept being flirty with me in the men's department.

On the drive home I received a call from from my niece, who is up in the Cities for her monthly National Guard duty. We caught up at my place in Uptown, then headed to get coffee AND ice-cream. In my world you usually get one or the other, but after a day of excess I saw no problem getting both.

Coffee inhaled. Ice cream consumed. "Bend it Like Beckham" screened for the fifth or sixth time. And now, journal updated.

In the words of our fearless leader: Mission accomplished.