As it turns out, I didn’t go to belly dance class after all. It was raining as I was coming home from work, and as it always does when the weather is the least bit inclement in these southern climes, it slowed the traffic down to a crawl. I get home with less than fifteen minutes to change into my dance clothes before I have to head out again. So I rush through the door, ready to haul ass big time, and a small bundle of fuzzy cuteness comes bounding off the couch, runs to me, overjoyed that I’m finally home, and proceeds to wiggle and wuffle in my arms with delight when I pick him up. Damn. Can I be heartless enough to abandon something so adorable, that’s so utterly thrilled to see me? Nope. No way in Hell.
So, I guess my hiatus from belly dancing is going to last another month and a half. Classes run in six-week sessions where a full choreography is learned in each session. Missing one class is like missing one sixth of the dance and the teacher doesn’t do make-up sessions.
Oh well. My activity level, aside from chasing or being chased by Hobkin around the great room, has dropped to an all-time low. Oddly enough, though, I continue to lose weight. It’s probably all muscle mass, dammit.
I set a goal for my writing this week. A thousand words (although more is all happiness and joy) a day. Day three and so far, I’m on track. Although I continue to need multiple cups of coffee in order to make my goal. But at this rate, I might actually finish something! *gasp*
Hmm. I’m decreasing my activity levels and I’m taking artificial stimulants regularly. Wonder when this’ll come back to bite me in the ass.