The Numbers Game

Number of 10K races I ran in a single 16-hour period this weekend: Two. (Don't ask.)

Average temperature outside during said runs: 31 degrees C.

Appeal, on a scale of 1 to 10 with 1 being "get that the heck away from me", of the glass of champagne I was offered after Saturday night's race: o.

Average finish time of each race: Less than an hour.

Number of pounds I gained this weekend, despite the above and no extra food: Three. (WTF? Obviously cannot be accurate but is still bloody annoying.)

Number of days, as of tonight, I have gone with anything alcoholic to drink: 30.

Number of days, as of tonight, I have gone without a binge: 30.

Number of articles I have to finish by Wednesday morning at 10 am: 4 (eeek!)

Percentage finished these articles are: Um, well... one of them is about 10 percent done. (eeek!)

***

There has been mega family drama going on (mostly about pageantry surrounding the arrival of the Three Kings, as I've been calling my nephews). The bottom line is: There are a lot of things that seem very nice about married life, but boy, my sister's mother-in-law is not one of them.

But my dad is great.

And my grandmother is my favourite person on the planet. Even before the situation got (mostly) resolved – in an almost comic fashion – The Grandma had spoken. And what do you know? She was right.

I won't procrastinate further except to leave you with this insight into the sad, sad life that is that of your faithful correspondent: When I went this afternoon to respond to the Afghanistan-book-reviewing-lawyer (with whom I've exchanged a couple of emails), I noticed we have a friend of a friend in common on Facebook (or Facecrap, as the singer-songwriter I interviewed last week called it). In her profile she is wearing a pair of Georgina Goodman heels I actually also own.

Is it a sign?

Ha.