Grey matter

It is fascinating to me (though probably not to you, but hey, my blog and all that) that the smallest little change in routine can often be enough to push me off course. I am like an overgrown toddler in this way.

Last week came straight from hell and wouldn’t go back. I was like a hunted dog at work on Thursday. Didn’t get around to eating lunch till 3pm. Friday was worse. I ate at 4:30. After I got back from the eye doctor, who diagnosed me with conjunctivitis in my left eye and prescribed 80 dollars’ worth of drops (which, by the way, taste nasty. Because they’re eyedrops, which ostensibly you shouldn’t eat, but because my eyes and my tongue are both in my head, sadly I have tasted the eyedrops. They go in my eye and down my throat and I might as well eat nail polish. Except that nail polish would, in no way, cure my conjunctivitis. Anyhow. I digress. Obviously.). I bagged the gym that night, too, because I could barely move my head thanks to a pinched nerve in my shoulder. So, no gym, erratic eating. And tracking? Oh, please.

And then we had pizza for dinner on Friday night. Because Professor Taco thought I should have some comfort food. Not supportive, exactly, but certainly sweet. And not exactly unsupportive really, because I don’t have comfort foods. I don’t eat for comfort. If I’m going to overeat, I do it because I’m bored. And by Friday night I was longing for a little boredom, you know?

In any event. We had pizza and salad and it was extremely delicious. And then Taco went to work and I managed to relax on the couch and not eat the one remaining slice. Good job, me.

Still, the weekend continued to be scattered, at best. Saturday, didn’t eat lunch till almost supper time. Sunday, same deal. And between having to wear my glasses and barely being able to move my head, there wasn’t a whole lot of working out going on. Still, I managed a walk on Sunday afternoon. I’m sure, had I tracked, I’d have been well over on my calories for most of last week and right through the weekend.

But. I didn’t go crazy. I didn’t think, oh well, fuck it. I did get a walk in, and I made an effort to knock back lots of water. We got a walk in this morning, plus I walked to work for once, and I have gym time planned for this evening.

And I was down a pound on the scale this morning. Always a pleasure.

And my bloodshot eye has cleared up (though I have to sport the glasses till Friday), and mobility is returning to my shoulder and neck.

Balance. Balance, balance, balance.

What do you do when your routine goes to hell? There must be a way to surf those unpredictable work freak outs without totally losing sight of your purpose. Is it just a matter of thinking? Of deciding, ok, things are a bit mental right now, but I still have to track, I still have to drink water? I am such an all-or-nothing person, still. Even though I’m always nagging I mean encouraging Taco to see the shades of grey that exist, instead of just the black and white.

So. Grey. How do I find it?