Things seem to be back to normal here today, and Blogger support has sent me an email letting me know that they'll be dealing with the nefarious comment spammer, so hopefully the comments feature is safe for the time being. Other than not being able to do much in the way of blogging, it was a pretty satisfying, if exhausting, day for me yesterday. I got up an hour and a half earlier than normal in order to kick off attendance at my new gym with a complimentary personal training session. I don't know that I've mentioned joining the gym in this space, but judging by the fact that I can barely lift my arms from my side today, it is clear that this is exactly what I've done. Given the earlier hour of waking and the sleep-delaying excitement of starting something new delaying my sleep the night before, I was pretty much in a zoned-out daze while being led through a challenging though basic weights and floor exercise routine, which I think it was helpful in that I just did whatever I was told without thinking about it (or thinking about the fact that I was about to keel over) and before I knew it an hour and a half had passed and I was back here at my computer munching on a PowerBar. I continued in a semi-delirious and giddy state all day, feeling unusually good. After work I had plans for a model-packed evening of watching America's Top Model and Zoolander with a reading friend, appropriately accompanied by a couple of the previously praised Sofia Mini's (I see from the review linked there that Gawker has cleverly called the beverage 'a can of dumbass' and if that's not appropriate for the evening's viewing line-up I don't know what is). By the end of the funny stupidity I was fighting the urge to curl up in contented slumber and started preparing for homeward travel when my hostess flipped over to Game 4 of the World Series with the Red Sox up 3-0 and 3 innings left to go. It felt very similar to the sensation of forcing myself through the third set of sit-ups back in the gym that morning, but we managed to gut it out and see the history happen, though the full impact was heavily blunted by the fact that I wasn't 100% sure I was still awake (I know I had to have slipped into some sort of nightmare or hallucination during the 7th inning stretch, because I was fully convinced that I saw former Creed singer Scott Stapp speaking in tongues or something). Finally I was able to stagger off toward Brooklyn (totally neglecting to look up to see the total lunar eclipse unfortunately) but there was one little comedy bit still waiting for me. The L train was only running on one track, so I had to wait for around half an hour to get out of Manhattan, and once I got onto the train and latched onto a pole I finally did drift off into the land of nod. Luckily I didn't have to trek all the way to East New York or wherever the end of the line is, though, because when we pulled into the Bedford station a slack grip and Newton's first law of motion conspired to slam my head up against the pole and knock me flat on my ass among a tangle of legs and refuse, from which position I had to quickly roll over and spring out onto the platform like a jaguar onto a gazelle before the doors closed and I missed my stop. A handful of hipsters applauded, I got up and spread my arms out in a ta-da fashion, and then I went upstairs and paid for a car to take me the final way to my door without further incident. So that was Wednesday, and now that hell has officially frozen over and I am back to my bright-eyed, bushy-tailed self (even with limited arm mobility) I look confidently forward to capitalizing on that long-awaited climate change myself in the days and weeks to come.