How sad is that that fact makes me so happy? I went to my apartment today to start organizing/cleaning before I move back in (and got rid of 3 bags of stuff for donation plus a couple of bags of garbage, and cleaned the bathroom), and there was my scale. MY SCALE. The only scale that I trust to give me an accurate weight. I had to step on her. She's a bitch and likes to lie, but she is mine. Of course I had eaten and was wearing clothes so she showed me her favorite weight for me 123.4lbs. I laughed. I wish I could take her here without it looking weird, because Dad has an analog scale. Oh well.
I've been moving a lot more these past few days, doing a lot of cleaning/work. I feel accomplished though exhausted. I can't wait until I can work out for longer than 10 minutes at a time.