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Our roommate, Pierce has recently taken to putting himself to bed at night.  We’ll be hanging out, and he’ll eventually disappear.  We find him all tucked into his bed and fast asleep. 

This morning around 4:15 he woke up sad—bad dream or something.  I scooped him up and did my usual poor parenting management of the situation and brought him to bed putting him between Greg and me.  After a couple of wimpy protests, he finally fell asleep, as did I.  Mikey appeared in our room shortly after 6am, so I got up.  As I am rolling over to exit the bed, I hear daddy say “Can you help me move Pierce over?”  (a situation I am familiar with, myself, because it seems we put him in “hook” pajamas and I wear “loop” pajamas .  This must be why when he rolls near me in the night, I can’t get away—he’s stuck fast!)  Anyway, when I turned to help Greg, he was hanging from the side of the mattress like a rock climber who’s afraid of heights!  It was hilarious!  Pierce was totally over on dad’s side of the bed with his head in the center of dad’s pillow, and dad was perched precariously on the edge of the bed.  I guess he wore hook and loop jammies to bed, too!

I decided yesterday to join a gym.  I need to get more exercise MORE often, and I’m not doing it when I get back from dropping Mikey off at school.  Instead, I find checking my blog stats, and reading other people’s blogs, and pretend shopping by putting everything cool on the internet on my Pinterest boards—I don’t know why this would be my preferred activity—we all know how fun it is get all pulled together to walk too fast to enjoy the sights, get further from home than we’d like to be, and then realize how far we have to go to get back—I simply don’t have the money to buy a house in the neighborhood where I get tired and just stay there.  Occasionally, I will haul my bum out of this permanent indention in my chair and clean my house, or use TJMAXX as my “carrot” to get me to walk 4 miles.   I don’t have nearly enough money to use that last one regularly, though—trust me; a gym membership is WAY cheaper.

So I did my research, and hit my parents up for childcare while I go, because it cut my membership costs back to $10 a month rather than $50.  They were up for sweet Pierce a few mornings a week.  I decided, since I couldn’t wait to go back to the gym—it had been a year since I cancelled my last membership that I would jump right in today!  I went in to the counter to get all set up, and they were very nice.  They have a “no judgment” policy, and they really discourage any of the showing-off antics and pick-up joint mentalities of other gyms.  Because of this, I was told (albeit, rather sheepishly) that I couldn’t wear my headband/doo-rag (that I wear all the time because it’s convenient, and I think I look artsy).  Only sweat bands and hats on the floor was the policy.  I said, “Come on, man, these are my colors!”  I guess they didn’t want me looking for other gang members to recruit while I was on their property.  I know I give off the persona of a real thug, but geez—lay-off or I’ll cut you!

Okay, after I peed on my territory (then took off my doo-rag), they showed me where everything was.  Today,  I was only there to use the ArcTrainer.  Somebody was on the first one in the line-up so I chose the third one—you know—leave a little personal space.  They had told me that to use the TVs I needed to hold the remote really close to get it to communicate with the tv.  So, I’m trying to remember how this apparatus works– setting a program, incline, resistance, etc.  Find my headphones.  Plug them in.  Drop my towel between my ArcTrainer and the one 14” away.  Get my foot caught getting back off the machine to retrieve my towel.  Stumble a little. Try to figure out the best way to reach the towel without getting my arse wedged between the two machines and needing to call for help.  Get back on.  Realize that there is no remote.  Spot one on another machine.  Get back off to steal it.  Try to turn on the TV.  Can’t get anything but snow.  Have to slink over to the desk to ask for a tutorial.  Find out that that is the only machine not plugged into cable.  Decide that today is probably not the day to select lotto numbers—or is it?  Choose another machine.  Get the tv working.  It acts weird, and I don’t know any of the channels since I have a different cable company at home.  Give up.  Put on my IPOD.  Prepare for 40 minutes of ass-kicking.  Find out I was totally not prepared for an ass kicking.  Heart screams like a runaway freight train in my chest.  Ego finds itself severely deflated.  Sweat and hair is falling in my eyes.  Watching the time.  Watching the calories.  Realizing that I COULD HAVE WAITED to get back to the gym.  Heart rate won’t come down, unless I walk backwards, maybe.  Finally!  Almost done!  Oops, bump my IPOD.  Send it to that awful spot between the ArcTrainers.  Finish work out, and once again, wedge myself between the two machines to pick it up.  Bolt out of the place, never to return again….  Just kidding… maybe…

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