Who needs legs, anyway?

My trainer is evil. We boxed yesterday, which I love, even if it does make my hands kina stinky from all the accumulated sweat various people have left behind in the gloves. But anyway, that oart is fun. The part that's not fun is the fact that he spends the half hour leading up to the boxing destroying my legs. We did every major leg machine int he gym at really high levels of weight for someone my size. And the whole time he was all evil grins. That bastard. Today I can't walk at any kind of reasonable pace, yet I'm going to go to the gym anyway and do my workout because I'm as crazy as he is. I couldn't sleep last night because of the soreness of my legs, although I'm convinced that having a matress on the floor has something to do with it.

I briefly thought about staying home today to recuperate and finish my script for the Disney Fellowship, but I've missed so many days lately and each time it's a disaster for the kids, so I decided to come in. The deadline is Friday, so unless they extend it there's no way I'm going to make it with this script, which is a shame because I think it's really good. But I'm going to try my House script instead because it's finished and has gotten some positive responses from people I trust. Still, it doesn't carry the theme with as much strength as my Supernatural will when it's finished. But oh well. That's what I get for procrastinating.