Sick orange glow

September.

Oh, that lovely month. 

I've had a bad history with this month... however, something tells me this year it won't be so terrible.

I had intended to update yesterday, and even Tuesday night, since my flight was actually early, and I was back in the city by 11:30pm. However, once home, there were arguments with D... and I just decided to go to bed.

Yesterday there was a ton of housekeeping bullshit to catch up on, as well as getting back to the swing of GymTime. I also had the imbecilic idea of uploading my Chicago/DC photos to FB (procedure I did not finish until earlier today. I didn't take my camera, so I suffered through vacation time with only Mom's weakass cutesy, piece of shit "coolpix" camera, with its shit shutter speed and ultra low mega pixels. HORRIFYING to deal with... especially when I wanted to edit them. A motherfucking nightmare. Fucking Nikon BASURA). I was dead by midnight.

So, updating had to wait until today.

I'm still in that DC mindset, still on their time zone.

I still feel like I can walk outside and enter any random museum to get lost in for hours.

My last day there, I left Rafa's place at 8:30AM. I walked the Mall from the capitol building to the Lincoln Memorial. No one was out, besides a couple of joggers. 

The day was sunny, without a cloud in the sky, but a slight breeze in the air.

It was perfect.

Mom was hurting... but only towards the end.

Really stresses the fact that traveling with someone with a lower health level than yourself is a huge NO NO.

Still, walking with Mom is nice. We're not arguing or anything. Just chit chatting like a mom and daughter... sometimes being silly.

We checked out other outdoor memorials, up until 10AM, when the museums finally opened.

I had the time to hit up two Smithsonian museums (American history and natural history), the national gallery of art's sculpture museum, and finally, per my request, the national portrait gallery.

I was squealing and literally jumping up and down with glee at each one. 

I'd post photos... but right now, the thought of fucking around with photographs makes me want to vomit.

Speaking of vomiting, I'm getting a LITTLE worried.

In this week-long DC trip with Dad, he asked me twice if I was ok. He said I looked sick.

When D picked us up at the airport, she asked me if I was ok. She asked if I ate in DC.

Me: Yeah, dude, I fucking pigged out. I had pho, ice cream, a tons of chocolate cookies for breakfast and dinner... why?

D: You look... like you didn't eat.

When I woke up yesterday, I went ahead and did my daily ritual of weighing myself... and was shocked to see that I had dropped nearly 7 pounds (if we count today, then it IS 7 pounds) in this two week vacation. While in Chicago, D and I calculated our weight GAIN to be around 6 pounds, since we ate cake/pie every.single.day. As well as a shitton of rice and bread... and sushi.

I was supposed to gain weight... but the opposite occurred.

A little scary... but to my defense, I DID have two-hour long heavy-lifting sessions five days that I was in Chicago. Then, in DC I'd walk/jog a minimum of five miles a day (except Saturday, thanks to stupid hurricane Irene)... and I'd do some medicine-ball work as well as kettle bell swings every day (especially when I was locked in the house thanks to that goddamn hurricane).

Still... it's a little alarming to hear other think you look sick.

I knew that fucking orange glow was unhealthy.