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My muscles are so confused.

David and I started doing p90x yesterday, the 87th day before our wedding. I was reminded of some things that I never really forgot in the first place, like my inability to do pushups, pullups and essentially all other upper-body strength exercises. This morning, set to do Plyo X, David came over and informed me that his right arm has swollen at the elbow and he can't straighten it past a 60 degree angle. So I gave David a bag of frozen salmon burgers to make the swelling go down and I did Plyo X by my lonesome.

Ouch. That's all I will say, so as not to psych myself out for next week, when I have to do the whole thing over again. Plus the week after that. And the week after that. Etcetera for 90 days. I sort of feel like I've been pummeled with a meat tenderizer.

More good news: I have my premarital exam in an hour. I've been dreading the thought of this exam since I heard that such a thing existed. Possibly even longer. I got my informative packet of contraceptive statistics yesterday from the women's clinic where I'm having my exam. It's full of a "don't be worried" brand of advice, which is probably what they'll tell me today as they're coming at me with a cold metal torture device.

I watched a pap smear online. I probably shouldn't have. In an attempt to un-scare myself, I've taken to referring to the thing as a pap schmear, which makes it sound like a fun bagel spread instead the kind of spread it really is.

Since my adventures at the scrapbook paper warehouse have ended (which is great news for my hands, which were sick of being covered in paper cuts and fraying bandages, but not so good for my cash flow situation), I find myself with a lot of time on my hands. 24 hours a day, to be exact, without one scheduled moment to attend to. I don't know why I find it so much harder to get anything done when I have so much time. I like structures and schedule because they force me to be productive, instead of allowing me to, say, catch up on 3 seasons of America's Next Top Model. It's not that I don't have things to do; I have lots of things to do. I just can't seem to get around to doing them. Working out seems to help though. Being sore makes me feel productive.

I'm trying to spend more time writing, since I've decided to apply to the MFA Creative Writing program at BYU (starting fall 2012. Hopefully.) I've been reading a bunch of Yann Martel short stories lately. His writing makes me lay awake at night.

Ok, I have to go. To the women's clinic. Hip hoorah.