ZERO, Zero, zero.....
No umph, no motivation. Had one of THOSE days.
Got my run in, that was good. Not too hot for a change. Then hit Toxichouse to check in, do some odds and ends-shit that if not done, would result in MORE shit-fix a loose window etc.....all was well, It and I actually spoke...then...THEN, I'm on the road, psycho text! Was freakin' because of where I put the dog poop. Now remember, Ms.12 Step/what would JEEEEEEEZUS do? All it has to say is nasty shit to me. THEN, wonders why It didn't have my phone #. Worse yet, do It or Stoney ever pick up the dogshit? Easier to tear a new one to the one motherfucker who actually does.
Really makes ya feel great don't it?
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