Don't Judge Me...Unless You're a Killer.

        When you justify wearing a sweatshirt to work because it's one of your "fancy sweatshirts," it is a sign of several possible issues- the least of which is a mountain of dirty laundry that may or may not be piled on your bathroom floor.   Life lesson #65: Sweatshirts are never fancy unless you are in Canada.

This is one of my "fancy" sweatshirts.  Yes, I'm in Canada, and, yes, I have my eyes closed in this picture.

        I have been running again, and therefore, feel much less stabby overall.   A couple of my nurse friends and I are doing the Seattle 1/2 Marathon in November.   The good news is that so far, the weather this fall in Seattle has been phenomenal.  This makes training [mostly] enjoyable- especially as opposed to running in January.  The bad news is that the race is the Sunday after Thanksgiving.  BLERG.   What kind of a fool signs up to, nay, pays to run 13.1 miles (yes, the .1 is important) after eating nothing but mashed potatoes, cranberries, turkey and gravy?  Probably a genius.

Probably this guy.

        A few of us were doing a training run this Saturday down by the waterfront, and it was beautiful - blah blah.  The important part was that 7 miles went by incredibly fast with three of us jabbering the whole time.  We discussed many an important topic including, but not limited to the following: "Who likes Angelina Jolie, anyway?" and "How to avoid getting murdered while running."  

        And then I almost did get murdered at Target.

        Let me clarify, we're talking City Target here, people, so there is a far higher percentage of patrons on crack than, say, Northgate Target.  (As you can see by virtue of the fact that I am still blogging, I have lived to tell the tale, so don't get too worried.  But still!)  I was followed by a lunatic into City Target...   Okay, it might have just been a schizophrenic homeless person with a Mariners hat on...  It's plausible that it might have simply been a guy who was trying to remember what kind of boxed wine his wife wanted him to bring home for breakfast... I'm pret-ty sure he was a straight up killer, though.

        I had to walk super fast and escape down the laundry aisle to lose this evil mastermind.  (I think we all know that while a psycho may follow an unsuspecting victim into City Target in order to surprise stab her amongst the paper towels and mops,  he wouldn't dare cut a bitch in front of the Up and Up lavender scented fabric softener.)  Obvi.

This was my face before I found the safe aisle...I really don't know why Jack Skelington got involved.

        Just to recap...  I wore a "fancy sweatshirt" to work on Friday.  Saturday I ran to train for a 1/2 marathon that takes place with a belly full of Thanksgiving food.  Sunday I ran up the escalator at Target to hide in scented laundry supplies.  

       Monday I contemplated a sad thought with a fair amount of certainty.   The murderous vagrant  I had so narrowly escaped probably noticed a blonde freak with a penchant for athletic clothes,  speed walking into the automatic door at City Target just before tripping up the escalator.  "Good thing I got fabric softener yesterday," he must have considered, "Looks like the chick in mom shoes forgot to take her meds again."