I’ve been cheating.
Fleeting thoughts of working out have been making the occasional appearance in my mind but haven’t actually manifested themselves into real “action”.
A weeks vacation is an excellent way to procrastinate your exercise ideals (or even thoughts of physical movement) so when it’s time to resume the dastardly routine, it flirts on the bare edge of disaster.
I decided that since I’d been lax in my routine I’d punish myself for an extra half hour this morning.
It was a mistake.
I think I left a chunk of my soul quivering in the shallow end of the pool.
The last I heard was “Leave me behind! I’m not gonna make it any way!”
The ladies got a good chuckle listening to me whimper & occasionally sob into my lane rope. (Hey, if that other nut job can chew on it, I can at least cry into it. I don’t care what the sign says.)
So now I’m surfing the net looking for a metaphysical therapist.
MWM ISO witch doctor, shaman, medicine man or seamstress (must be an active member of the Seamsters Union) to reinsert soul into unsuspecting loser of said life force. Price negotiable.
We’ll see what the innocent citizens of KC respond with 🙂