I have quadriceps, you know.

Okay, I'm sure you assumed that was true, but today they're making SUCH an effort to make their existence known to me that I thought I'd share. So uh, you can stop that now, guys. Guys? Please?

...

I hate how it always looks cloudy from here on the 27th floor. Because well it is cloudy in as much as there are clouds, which I look at kind of head on (I don't get that. I mean, I'm not THAT high up, folks. clouds are wayyyy higher.), but if I were on the ground I would be like "whoah! what a sunny day! observe the large expanses of blue sky!" Instead I'm like "Hmm, well, I'm vaguely aware that the sun is above the horizon, but I don't know how that's supposed to affect my groundhog-like life."

Someone just mentioned treacle tarts. Ooh. Now, I've never had a treacle tart. They're probably like butter tarts only not as good. But I am in love with the word treacle, and now that I know it means molasses and not ink (because ink comes in pots, not molasses! only, treacle comes in pots. it's a mystery.), I am all about treacle-y edibles. Not that, as I say, I have ever had any.

Also, "blackstrap molasses". I know it's just tarry sugar, but what an awesome name. I am so easily amused.

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I am going to run one mile today. This is my pre-pre-training week, preceding my pre-training week, which precedes week 1 for no particular reason that I remember, though it all made sense at the time. A friend of mine gave me a lovely journal with celtic knotwork on the cover for my birthday, in which I have inscribed my insidious plan. Anyway, I'm all stupidly excited about even running one mile, because I haven't really been running lately, bored or burned out or whatever, but now I have this crazy master plan, see.

I guess it's not actually very insidious, what with me talking about it publicly and it not harming anyone or being devious at all. It's a constant struggle for me to come to terms with the "fact" that I'm not a "real" "pirate" or "super-spy" of any kind. Pfft. Whatever.