Working out

I give thanks for dreams so disturbing and distressing it was actually quite cheerful waking up to real life. I give thanks for working out, when I found it almost as hard to move in real life as in the nightmare, that this was due to yesterday's shifting and lifting and that gradually the stiffness and soreness eased off a bit.

I give thanks for working out if I raided the piggy bank and bribed myself with an Eastcliff toasted sandwich for lunch I would get dressed and outdoors by lunchtime...otherwise it would have been touch and go. I give thanks for the warm hazy sunshine which meant not many garments had to be struggled into... and that so many people were wearing sunglasses as my white bits would have been quite dazzling without!

I give thanks for knowing a spot to be out of the breeze and out of the way for watching the world go by at play. For the one surfer who worked out the waves breaking out over the sandbanks would not break again by the pier and went out to ride them...and for the others who, presumably having decided not to, presumably enjoyed just hanging out on their boards on the flat water instead. Not as mystifying as a large group of people in the distance who walked into the sea together to calf depth and just stood around for a bit. It did cross my mind it might be going to be a baptism but when I zoomed in with my camera they were all wearing wetsuits and stayed standing up. Maybe it was a class from the surf school having lesson 1. Getting Your Feet Wet. Gonna be a long course...

I give thanks for some successful sewing this afternoon, and also some successful snoozing. I've a wild evening of sex and drugs and rock and roll planned... well, BBC4 documentaries on the subjects anyhow... I give thanks I know how to have fun. Heck, one day I even might!