Mornings are for sleeping.

Not for exercising. I am remembering that now. Oh, and I don't believe they were ever intended for the study of the Texas Probate Code, either.

So I finally started back to the gym after a 5 month hiatus. Last semester went horribly wrong as my health got pushed to the back of the line and the only emotion I ever experienced was stress.

They say exercise helps to relieve stress. But that doesn't do much good when you are too stressed to leave the confines of your own private hell to expend some energy you don't have to begin with.

But don't they say sex relieves stress, as well. That didn't even help much last semester. I could finish, roll over, and get asked the question: "How do you feel now?"

And my answer would be, "Stressed."

I can hold you, but I'll have to read for Oil & Gas at the same time.

I suppose, though, I have a fairly calm and collected manner when under great amounts of stress. I must have---given that people assume it takes very little effort for me to do anything.

Well, yeah . . . okay . . . so I don't put much effort into anything.

But that doesn't mean I don't put a lot of stress in for effort's place.

And my wife acts as if I seem to be enjoying myself while hopelessly attempting to revise my student comment, or study what-ever-the-hell it is I have to study, or am "shelf-checking" some portion of a mind-numbing article on the current state of insurance litigation in the state of Texas.

I can not express how much I absolutely relish those moments when I sit at the table, cases strewn haplessly about me, staring at the computer screen while wishing my fingers on to some bit of ingenuity . . .

And I hear, "Well, you've just been sitting there in front of that computer for 3 straight days. Why don't you get up and do something productive like help me clean? I wish I could just sit around all the time like you."

Hand me a golf club and I'll make it a reality . . . I think.

So, anyway, I started back to the gym. And needed to after my all-you-can-eat pancakes platter at IHOP last night.

(But, no, I did not eat all the pancakes I could eat. I think they have a policy where the waitress is supposed to disappear for the duration of your meal after setting down the food and not returning with the check until you have not only finished but have also had the chance to completely digest it all.)

Speaking of IHOP, it must be a definite sign you are getting old when you have absolutely NO patience with the group of 10 high school kids they seat in your section taking up the booth behind yours and two more tables and you have to listen to their giggling and assinine comments and rocking back and forth in the booth and jumping over each other and flicking each other with soda and that conversation . . . that high school conversation . . . where they have everything figured out and are so damned pompous and sure of everything and everyone . . .

AND YOU HAVE TO SIT THERE WAITING FOR YOUR INVISIBLE WAITRESS WHO IS SO AFRAID YOU WILL ASK FOR MORE PANCAKES THAT SHE HAS FLED THE $!@&*# COUNTRY SO YOU MUST WAIT FOR HER RETURN FROM TIJUANA TO GET YOUR CHECK AND PAY AND ALL THE WHILE THEY KEEP BANGING THE BACK OF YOUR SEAT BUT THERE IS NO REASON TO SAY ANYTHING TO THEM BECAUSE THEY ARE COCKY HIGHSCHOOL STUDENTS WHO NEED TO BE BEAT, NOT LECTURED, AND OH MY GOD THE LEASE ON MY COFFEE HAS EXPIRED--WHERE THE HELL IS OUR WAITRESS!?! I AM GOING NUTS AND--OH, YOU WANT TO KNOW HOW I FEEL??--STRESSED--DONT SAY ANYTHING TO THEM?--NO, I WONT, I'LL JUST FIND OUT WHICH ONE IS 18 AND GIVE HIM THE MESSAGE FOR THE REST OF THEM--CAN WE GO?--WHAT DOES IT LOOK LIKE I AM TRYING TO DO?!

All-you-can-eat or not. Next time I am going to Cheddars.