The prospect of them winning Sunday's game is as stressful and worrying as them losing, for we have committed ourselves to going to the Super Bowl should Lady Luck and the officiating staff smile upon them. The internet writers like to call the NFC Championship "one win away from the Super Bowl," all casual like, but I've thrown up mental barriers in my head. I mean, I still can't believe we beat the Saints. I still can't believe that throw to Vernon Davis. At some point in the game, amidst the crowd roar, I broke from reality, and was mindlessly shouting over and over, "WHAT IS HAPPENING?!"
I've spent a year at Moss Adams, so this means I'm returning to jobs I started in my public accounting infancy. My laptop remembers the wireless networks. I remember where the bathrooms are. Older, wiser, etc, etc.
I've been lackadaisical about working out. I got a certain home exercise DVD set popularized in a Bruno Mars song, and I read the literature, but I'm having a hard time committing. When do you work out when you have 12+ hour work days?
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