Forested path in Hoffman Hills State Recreation Area, Menomonie, Wis., in an undated photo.
As it is "spring ahead" time tonight to the annual fraudulent scam of daylight savings time** -- meaning that I lose an hour of my Saturday night -- and because the political-themed entry that I want to post may or may not be rendered null and void by whatever happens on Tuesday in this extraordinary presidential election year here in the dis-United States, I am just posting a jukebox Saturday night entry after this update.
**Yes, daylight savings time ("DST") really is a scam whose stated reasons are all mostly bogus and the effects of which are mostly bad, except for some business interests.
And the damn thing lasts for 8 months now.
That aside, I am home on this Saturday evening doing three loads of laundry (again using my credit card instead of my debit card because of the new and problematic laundry charging system that has been set up along with the installation of the new washers and dryers). To be clear, it worked as expected last week with the two $7 holds replaced by the two $2 washing and two $2 drying loads I did.
Yours truly in the laundry room of this building a short while ago, Washington, D.C., 8:30PM March 12, 2016.
I'm back from a very good, multi-part workout at the YMCA including a 60-minute jog (plus five minute cool down) totaling 6.64 miles; a bit over an hour of decent weightlifting, a 20-minute core workout, and a 20-minute swim (along with a quick jaunt before weightlifting to the CVS to get some badly needed modest amount of junk food-based caloric intact).
I'm going to make dinner shortly.
Of note, my weight was 146.0 pounds today, so I'm more or less still down 40 pounds (more like 38) from my "Peak Flab" state a bit under four years ago, but keep in mind I have put on at least 5 pounds of muscle mass, so the fat loss is definitely 40 pounds.
Yours truly in my dimly lit apartment as seen in a low-res picture selfie, Washington, D.C., 8:13PM March 12, 2016.
For tonight, it's just the usual -- Floriana downstairs bar, Trade, and perhaps No. 9 or Nellies (or, maybe Fox & Hounds if Jamie is there).
Last night at Trade, I had just moved to stand next to some young, muscular, very attractive guys (the sort who look right through and/or past me), when someone let lose with a smelly fart. Because I had just walked over, it would seem that I was the culprit (which I was most definitely not).
I'm not sure why that happens so often but it does.
Forested path, Marshall Park, Portland, Ore., Sept. 2009.
For tomorrow, I'm meeting Chester late afternoon. He is coming into the city from his peaceful suburban Maryland abode, we will go to a couple places (perhaps Baan Thai or Commissary and then Trade).
My next update probably won't be until late Monday (or just after midnight Tuesday).
OK, jukebox Saturday night entry to follow in a little while.