Monday. Well, the blood pressure is still higher than it should be, so I've been looking at the salt content of what I've been eating. I'm sure it's in there somewhere, since I don't eat at home. The mornings shouldn't be a problem: I can easily switch from my Big Bang Bacon Burger down at Mama's Beef and Sweets (with the special cheese catsup I like so much) to the fruit - nuts - tofu - freeze dried apricots over cereal with skim milk (laced with brandy and jalapéno honey) they advertise next door at the Crunch and Run, although I'll have to check the cereal for salt content from what I've been reading on the web. I think maybe cornflakes are out, hard to say.
The cheese I've been secretly consuming (secretly in the sense I haven't been mentioning it to the proctor part of my brain charged with keeping an eye on possible bad behavior) will have to cease. I can do that. It's something I started a few months ago. Comfort food. I've been in need of comfort food.
Salt and walking: less salt, more walking. I'd add less time at the office and more naps, but you can only get away with so much before they bang your head against the wall to get you back on track. There was some mention at the doctor's office of keeping it to no more than two drinks at a sitting and I'm turning that over at the moment. What do you suppose constitutes a “sitting”? You “get up” to take a leak and you get to drink two more, the last two having been moved along making room for the next? I would think.
You're ready for that? The alcohol?
We'll see. I'm tired of falling apart while sitting in front of a computer with a bottle of sake. I'm going to fall apart soon enough as it is, no sense in abetting it even if the ritual is nice and the results are often interesting.
I can see you fiddling with the salt, maybe. You did the walking for a number of years, but I can tell from your tone your heart isn't really in it.
We'll see. Usually you make your resolutions after the turn of the year following a holiday season of back sliding and debauchery. Hup! Hup! Aches and pains, diets, kitty cats and resolutions. The stuff for which journals are famous.