119 - sunday

I woke up at 3am feeling pretty junky (that's the edited description) and spent the whole morning trying to decide if sleeping on the bathroom floor was better than sleeping in the bed.

8 mile run? cancelled. church? the thought of blow-drying my hair and smiling at other nice ladies without vomiting on someone only increased my nausea. cancelled. lie on the couch in my pj's, sipping gatorade and watching final stage the tour de france? okay.

in the fine state of georgia, lots of things don't happen on sundays.

 sunday means no delicious chicken sandwiches with a side of waffle fries and lemonade.

sunday means no booze for sale.

but you know what I learned the hard way today? I learned that sunday means that, even after your gut-wrenching morning ends and you feel ok by evening and get dressed and pack a waterbottle and drive 15 minutes to the gym to get your scheduled 8-mile run in (on the treadmill, ugh!), the gym is CLOSED. because now you live in the deep south, and everything down here comes to a standstill, just because sunday is for praying. 

I swear, just when I think I've got a handle on the social norms of this place, they come back and smack me straight across my yankee face.