I didn’t even make it to barre3 video number five. Good grief.

My last workout was exactly two weeks ago. It was a Friday and I was going out. It was my first night out in Siargao after an absence of more than two months. The chances of a crippling hangover the next day were high.

So I swam 20 laps (640 m.) and did the fourth barre3 video. I did two workouts in anticipation of drifting in and out of consciousness the next day.

And then I went out. And I crawled home before sunlight. And I was dead the whole day.

Texting a friend, trying to piece together the shenanigans of that evening.

Then I hit rinse and repeat for the next two weeks.

To be fair, with all that frenzied night time activity, even in my semi-catatonic state the next day, my fitness tracker would usually vibrate before midday to let me know that I had already met my goal for number of steps. When I remembered to wear my fitness tracker, that is.

I’m detoxing again, starting today. (“She said while snacking on Oreos.” It’s the last pack. I should get rid of it.)

But I am not drinking or smoking again. (I went from smoking a few cigs to smoking the whole carton that we keep in the refrigerator for our house guests. And then some.)

At least for the next two days. (The Evil Twin wants to go to a party on Sunday.)

I still don’t have the energy to workout. As I was writing this, I needed to take a quick nap. I’ve only had three hours of sleep. Again.

I will be a better human being tomorrow.

Or not.