To Carey just now, I said, “I think I walked myself sick. I feel pretty nauseous.”

“Drink lots of water*!” she lectured, followed by other ‘I’m Being Stern Because I Care’ sentiments.

*(Originally, I typed, “Drink lots of walk!” That’s how consumed I am with this. I might even start watching every season of “Walker, Texas Ranger”. CHAMPIONSHIP WALKING 4 LYFE.)

“Yeah, but I have almost 20,000 steps for the day already!” I cried defensively. (19,755 to be exact, and it’s only 6:30.)

(My friends are even having dreams about me and my steps now and I love it.)

(OK, it was one friend. But clearly Gina is my BEST friend now. If she plays her cards right, I might start walking to her house for no reason.)

“That’s great!” Carey enthused, and I thought she actually was being supportive until she tacked on, “but when you’re lying in a grave, your pedometer isn’t going to work.”

DANG, YA’LL.