Sweating

Well, friends and countrymen, I did something radical and I may or may not be pressed for a secret password to prove that I am, in fact, really and truly me. I bought an electric cord for the elliptical that has been a clothes rack in the bedroom for the past 4 or so years, and it is a full-time coat hanger no more! Merely part-time, from now on. That’s the plan, anyway.

Amazon. Problem solved. They might be screwing bookstores but they are the kings of random cords which may or may not melt the display of your old and going-out-of-business exercise machine from before you joined a gym and forgot that you had your own gym machine. Rejoice!

I got my gear on this morning, only to find, though, that there was nothing to rest the ipad on. No little shelf or hooks or anything at all to keep me occupied and forget that I’m burning food that I shouldn’t have eaten. 

Useless

I was ready to pack it in before I even goT started but I cast my eye around for something. I even climbed aboard the boring thing while I wracked my brain. And I found something!

And it worked! Huzzah!

I sweated for over half an hour while reading steamy sex scenes. 36 minutes to be exact! So that just about accounted for the tiny cheesecake I ate at work yesterday, but not the cinnamon scrolls for breakfast, nor the peanut brittle, countless cookies and other chocolatey treats that I haven’t been able to leave alone in the breakroom at work. Doh! But it’s a start. It’s one small elliptical step for me, and one giant stride when the reading gets steamy. Phew!

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