Embracing the fish (not in that way)
23.08.07, 7:39 pm

I�ve started going swimming with Robin, who�s my friend from work, because I thought the regular exercise would maybe help with the ME. On Tuesday we were so bored in the lab that Indie Chick and me made a bet as to whether he�d arrive in shorts or Speedos. And then, after I received a text from him arranging what time we were meeting (with a smiley face!), I managed to remark, �Yeeeah, if he wasn�t gay he�d totally fancy me� just as the boss was walking past the open lab door. God, I wish the boss would come into the lab just as I�m doing some really difficult stats analysis, and not when I�m either dancing round the lab or furtively sneaking on Facebook. He must think I have but 8 brain cells.

Anyway, swimming was good and I managed 500 metres before I could feel myself getting tired. I know 500m isn�t that great, and that a reasonably able 11 year-old could manage it, but I�m still bloody impressed with myself. Except yesterday I was exhausted because of it, and rapidly became despondent, demotivated and a load of other words beginning with de. It�s really frustrating. My ME is better than it was a year ago, but I�m still not better� I�m just stable. I want to get my full strength and full stamina back, but it�s just not happening, and as shitty as it is, it may be time to start accepting that this is as good as it will get. Positive thinking�s great, but sometimes facts have to be faced. And it�s bearable and I�m lucky and all that, but at the same time it�s gutting and crap.

On a side note, I also went swimming with James last weekend, as a test run, and it turns out he�s actually not very good at it. It was so cute, him flailing along and then finally arriving, gasping for breath and looking really put out. I�m ever so slightly smug because it�s one of the only things that I�m better than him at. Smugness quickly evaporated once we went home and he beat me by a lot at Scrabble. However, in my defence he definitely made a word up.

I�m off to Dumfries this Bank Holiday weekend to see James�s parents and sister, which has a lot to do with being able to eat free food for three days. James�s mum has broken her arm, which she managed by stepping onto a moving treadmill at the gym. It�s actually a really nasty break, up near the shoulder, and I�ve been warned that she�s probably going to want to talk about bones a lot � mainly if I think the break is because of her possible osteoporosis. I�ve also been told that the correct answer to that is �No, of course not.�

Work was incredibly boring today. I don�t have the energy or the words to describe the boringness. In the end Indie Chick and me retreated to the bottom bench and pretended to do some tissue stripping, but instead talked about sex a lot and got all giggly, probably because of the ethanol fumes. Thank God for unsupervised jobs.

Up for some family shit? My dad emailed me suddenly wanting me to pay another �240 towards the holiday, after I�d already paid �180. It�s Amanda�s doing� the original money-obsessed Scrooge. Anyway, I rang tonight expecting a big argument with my dad, and instead he was really nice and said that we�d work something out, and not to worry about it. Which just proves it was Amanda who asked for the extra money in the first place really. As the world knows, I have big money problems. I can�t afford the �240. I doubt Amanda�s going to be very pleased. Still, at least she can�t eat me whilst I�m safe in ShefLand.

James: So what�s your text say? What�s Zoe have to say?
Me: What? God, you�re so nosy. You�re Nosey McNose *thoughtful pause* from Nosedom.
James: Mr Beaky of Schnozzle?
Me: From the Conk Islands.

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