I actually really love Mondays. I like routine. Sometimes on Sunday afternoon, I just tell myself, "You are almost there, you can make it." Because Sundays feel so sloppy and the plans are unpredictable.

Because I ate so much junk food over the weekend, I bought a bunch of vegetables at the grocery store after work to do a vegetable fast for the rest of the day. Then I went to the liquor store to get some beer and wine (I am not drinking hard alcohol for the month of May, and it is actually a great way for me to exercise self control and still enjoy a drink at dinner or before bed...) and this lady asked me if I knew much about wine, and I said I didn't, but most of the employees at our state-owned liquor store are not very helpful, so I tried to help her pick something she wouldn't hate.

"Sorry I don't know more about wine," I said.
"Well you know more than me, and you are a sweetheart," she said with a worried look on her face, and it made me feel a little taller for a minute.

But then I went home to chop up my vegetables and sliced my thumb open because I was getting too cocky.

I guess what I'm trying to say, Sharon, is that I feel a medium amount of good, right now, and there is a tan creeping into my skin.
There is a five mile run creeping into my feet.
My hair is getting longer even though you can't see it, and you won't believe it.

I'll send you a picture so you can know.