It’s Monday evening, and I’m in the Hilton again (I wonder if Paris Hilton’s boyfriend says that? Does she have boyfriends for longer than a week?)
Work is going well. It’s one of the only things I have control over, meaning I can force what I am doing to succeed. Anybody who knows the hours I am capable of will at this point start to shake their head.
I’m sat in the hotel room killing half an hour before I wander down for dinner, listening to a podcast, drinking coffee, and typing this. It struck me recently that I just don’t watch television any more. Actually, I will watch the occasional movie, or half an episode of Bones if it’s on when I’m taking a break, but otherwise I will invariably work, blog, or surf.
I finally got on the scales at the weekend, and discovered the previous three weeks of living in hotels have added about 10 pounds to my weight. This is where my colleagues find out the true extend of my “take it or leave it” attitude to most things - I will be drinking fruit juice, and eating salads.
Burgers, pizza, steak and beer are all well and good, but if you are used to a balanced diet, it actually ends up making you feel pretty ill - as it has me for the last week at least. Getting home last weekend reminded me just how good our normal diet is. We routinely hit all the food groups during the day - steamed vegetables, fruit, lean meat, and so on. We don’t even think about it; it’s just the food we buy and make stuff from.
I’ve also brought my running shoes with me this week, and will be doing half an hour on the treadmill before breakfast each morning.
As you might have gathered, I’m not very good at doing nothing…