In an act which surely portends the End of the World, on September 30, I joined a gym. I apologize for not telling you sooner, but I rationalized that joining a gym is not the same as actually going to the gym, so there was no need to worry you unnecessarily.
But today, October 23 (24 days after joining)*, I went to the gym and engaged in actual physical activity for the first time. So you'll probably want to start getting your affairs in order and telling those close to you that you love them. Also, if someone could check in on me tomorrow and make sure that I can still move, that would be nice. Walking around the pool a couple of times really takes it out of a girl!
On the other hand, there were a couple of cute guys in the aqua aerobics class, so this working out thing might not be so bad after all. Strong emphasis on the might.
*In addition to all the stars aligning perfectly between my house and the gym today, my father's release from the hospital yesterday removed my oh-so-valid excuse of not being able to go to the gym because I always needed to be ready to race down to Mankato at any moment. "I can't possibly go somewhere where I'll get sweaty or be in water," I'd think. "No, it's best to stay at the ready here at home, sitting in my easy chair, watching another CSI marathon. With a box of Little Debbie Oatmeal Creme Pies near at hand, for quick energy. Not to mention creamy numminess."**
**In a completely unrelated story, I somehow seem to have gained 10 pounds since I moved to Minnesota. I just can't figure out how that happened. It's an unsolved mystery, worthy of CSI!
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