So in addition to squeezing back into my wedding ring (although, after THAT conversation, I'm not sure how much longer I'll be wearing it), I was now intent on working off my neck hump. I'm wondering if I should pick up astronomy as a hobby because it would require a lot of looking up. Or maybe bird-watching. Or spectator tennis.
Already firmly established as an enthusiastically non-motivated fitness person, working out isn't even a matter of moving. For me, it's a matter of tentatively moving over a long period of great deliberation leading to bouts of avoidance. But this time...I think I have stumbled onto a genius plan. It may even eventually be marketable if I can successfully coordinate with local law officials. My workout plan is called "Abduction & Abandonment."
"What time are you leaving for work tomorrow morning?" I asked my husband. Confused, he told me 6:45. The next morning, disheveled, silent, and angry, I climbed into the passenger seat of his white van with dachshund in hand. "What are you doing?" he asked, stunned. I waved ahead. "Just drive," my gravelly voice croaked. A mile later, I grunted for him to stop and climbed out. "You just want me to leave you here?" he inquired, incredulous. "Go," I snarled. Chlo stared. disbelieving at the disappearing van that had just left us beside the road. And from such auspicious beginnings, a great work-out program was born.
"Are you going to do that again tomorrow?" Brad asked later. "Maybe," I answered, knowing commitment is the key to failure. I quoted Princess Bride to him each time he asked.
The Dread Pirate Roberts said."All right, Westley, I've never had a valet. You can try it for tonight. I'll most likely kill you in the morning." Three years he said that."
For three days, Brad would drop us off and for three days, Chlo and I would crawl home. Brad was beginning to see the genius of my plan.
"We could add some other components," he offered.
"What? Like a hood?" I wondered.
"No. I could lure you to the van with candy..."
"Yes, go on," I encouraged.
"...have my way with you..."
"At 6:45 in the morning?" I frowned doubtfully.
"...and then abandon you beside the road. I could even kick up a little gravel as I peel away."
I promised to think about it. The candy part sounded really appealing.
On the fourth day, Brad didn't have to go into work until later so he volunteered to walk with us. Great. He TALKS in the morning. Ugh. Our seasonal road had just been re-dirted so we slogged through, clouds wrapped around our feet like PigPen from the Peanuts Gang. At the top of the hill, the field had recently been mowed. Our dogs love to explore there but I was hesitant. "It's going to be really wet this early," I remarked but relented, knowing how much they enjoy the romp. Our sneakers were soaked in seconds but worst of all was the low-hanging long-haired dachshund. She transformed into a canine sponge before our very eyes.
When we emerged back onto the road, I scooped her up. "You're not going to carry her all the way back to the house, are you?" Brad asked. "She'll be one big dreadlock if I don't," I told him, "Besides, we can share the load." Brad admired my wet t-shirt with interest before shaking his head. I gritted my teeth and headed home. "Just put her down. It's too far to carry her," he told me. "If John Wayne can carry Mattie in True Grit, by goodness, I can carry Chlo," I snapped at him. "Chlo isn't snake-bit," he reminded me. As we neared the house, he suddenly changed his tune when he realized I was going to make it and he was going to look like a jerk. "Here, I'll carry her," he offered. I swung the dog away from him. "Bite me," I spat out. This victory would be mine alone. Working out sure is hard.
No comments:
Post a Comment