Just a side note here, if we actually were to sling feces at those who upset us, people may begin to think twice before speaking and the oil companies just might weigh the consequences of raising the price of gasoline at the pump. 

Back to the matter at hand…

One of the cardinal rules for our house concerns dirty clothes.  Dirty clothes go in the hamper; filthy smelly clothes stay in the garage until they’re washed.  “I don’t want your filthy smelly clothes in the hamper with my dirty clothes.”  There’s a small part of mind that understands this one but every time I hear it, I struggle with the concept and a blank look appears on my face unsure of my next move.

“Am I to understand that this also applies to trash?  Because there’s no way I’m going to start smelling every piece of trash before I throw it away.”

“You know smelly trash goes immediately outside to the bin.”

“Yes, but it doesn’t always smell when I throw it away.  The smell doesn’t come until later so there should be a grace period before I have to take it outside to the bin.” 

The dentist says that Duana has a tendency to grind her teeth, but at least they’re even.  I’ve never received a thank you from Duana, but I know I played a bigger part than genetics and saved a fortune in veneers to get her teeth even.  Okay, yes she has TMJ; but a lot of good things in life have side-effects.

In my mind the difference in dirty clothes and filthy clothes is a very fine line lacking a clear-cut definition; but I have developed my own system of determining where this line is…  After working in the yard or doing something outside I’ll come in through the garage and stand in the laundry room until I catch Duana’s eye.  If she doesn’t say anything then I know my clothes are dirty.  If I hear, “Don’t come in my house with those filthy smelly clothes on.”  I know I have to leave my clothes in the garage. 

“Don’t take those off in here! Go into the garage and put them as far away from the backdoor as possible!”   

“Should I shower in the backyard or am I allowed to come into the house?”  You may think it rhetorical question, but there are times when Duana’s made me “rinse off” in the backyard before I can come in the house and take a shower.

Undressing in the garage really doesn’t bother me, the door’s closed and the windows are so high you’d have to be seven feet tall to look inside.  I say it doesn’t bother me until today…

Garage door openers are an amazing invention; they automatically rise and close at the push of a button.  I know what you’re thinking but I didn’t push the button.  The button on the inside of our garage doesn’t work and it’s been on my “to do” list for sometime.  But over the last couple of days we’ve noticed that someone in our neighborhood must have installed a new garage door opener that’s on the same frequency as ours because occasionally our garage door will open without notice.

Butt naked in the garage the door starts to open.  I make a dash for the backdoor and to my horror, and soon to be the neighbor’s – it won’t open.  It’s not locked but our laundry room is small and located on the other side of the door.  When the dryer door is open the backdoor from the garage won’t open more than a couple of inches. 

I start to yell through the crack in the door with my crack exposed to the world.  “Duana come close the door to the dryer!  Hurry!” No answer, not a sound.  The only thing between me and complete exposure are our cars in the driveway.  Beating on the backdoor and yelling was going to attract a crowd so I quickly summed up the situation and started to formulate alternate plans. I could run to the opposite side of the garage and get my clothes but they’re near the opening and I would risk exposure.  (I would like to add here that I have heard of people dying of exposure and I certainly didn’t want to risk being the cause of someone losing their life.)  I could put on my tool belt but that just seemed weird.  Resisting the urge to squat on the floor fearing if someone did see me they would think I was using the garage as a bathroom; I picked-up a cooler and held it in front of me while trying to formulate a better plan.  ”Ah-ha!  Paper towels!”  I tore the package open and quickly wrapped myself in layers while beating on the door.  “I’m coming!”  Duana had been in the back bathroom getting dirty clothes for the wash and had left the dryer door open while she cleaned out the filter.

“What are you doing?” 

“I’m trying to save what dignity I have left and not scar the neighbors for life.”

Standing in the door opening and blocking my entry to the house, Duana somehow felt this was the time to start a conversation. “Do you know how expensive paper towels are? Why are you naked in the garage with the garage door open? ”     

“I didn’t open it! The neighbors new garage door opener must be on our frequency and do you really think this is the time and place for this conversation?”

Finally inside the laundry room, I put on a pair of dirty jeans and t-shirt that were about to go into the wash and walk back into the garage.  Calmly, as to not arouse suspicion as to what was going on in the garage seconds before, I stood at the garage door as I surveyed the area to see if anyone was outside lying on the ground with their eyes covered.  It was clear.  No policemen… No sirens… No laughing… No moving to the deep swamps of Louisiana never to be seen again…   A potential neighborhood crisis was averted. 

Counting my blessings, I changed the frequency on our garage door opener, repaired the inside button and felt confident that no one had viewed my panicked “so you think you can dance” routine at the backdoor.  Within a week, that confidence was completely shattered when Duana announced that our neighbor’s had a “FOR SALE” sign up in their front yard. 

We never asked them why they were moving…                                 

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About an hour before time to get up, I stumbled into the bathroom and took two allergy tablets with hopes that my day wouldn’t be spent sounding like Bill Murray’s character in Caddyshack.  I returned to bed for another hour’s sleep before the alarm hit the bed. I say hit the bed because every morning, rain or shine, daylight savings time or not – Francis our Brittney mix leaps on the bed with our 5:30 AM, “HELLO! GOT TO GO PEE!” wake up call.  When 65 lbs of Francis pounces the bed with his best Tigger impression, a good morning kiss and his happy dance; you have approximately five seconds before he jumps off the bed and returns to repeat his morning “HELLO! GOT-TO-GO-PEE!” routine.  It’s like an alarm clock without a snooze button! 

“Uhhhhh uuuppp! Uhhhhh uuuppp!”   

This morning I was a scientific anomaly… The allergy medication had transformed me into living proof that brain waves are not necessary to sustain life as I moved in and out of a dreamlike vegetated state.  As a teacher, Duana witness’s this behavior on a regular basis so she completely ignored my zombie-like condition.  My feet never left the ground as I shuffled from room to room, responding to questions with grunts and groans while mimicking the battery operated toys that hit the wall turn and head off in a different direction.  Try as I might I couldn’t open my eyes.   

“Coffees made!” 

“Uhhhhh???”  I turned and shuffled down the hall with arms bent and hands extended a few inches in front of my chest using the walls as bumper pads.  Bouncing off the couch to complete the turn, I navigated towards the kitchen using the smell of fresh morning coffee to guide me.   

“Francis and Lizzie need to go outside!” 

“Uhhhhh???” 

Feeling through the fog and pre-dawn light, I found the door knob and managed to open the backdoor only to find myself being pushed outside by a two dogs with immediate needs. “Uhhhhh???”   Standing in the middle of the backyard, I’m oblivious to whether I’m wearing PJ’s or just my underwear and either way – I know my neighbors are thankful that we have an 8 foot wood fence.  Francis bumps me back towards the door and I stumble back towards the house. 

Eyes still closed, I once again follow the smell to the coffee maker and instinctively pour a cup and retrace my steps to the bedroom bouncing off one thing then another.

“Where’s your coffee?” 

I held my cup in the air in a toast like fashion and responded with my eyes still closed, “Uhhhhh…” 

“Your cups empty.  Why are you carrying an empty cup?  How did your feet get so wet? Give me your cup.” 

“Uhhh uh mprhh ah phuhh da zimb.”  

“I don’t know what that means but you better be saying, thank you.”  

“Phuhh da zimb fee.”  

Standing there alone with no thought process, Duana’s footsteps became faint and I slipped back into my dreamlike stupor; deeper and deeper – I start to sway when, “LARRY! YOU POURED COFFEE ALL OVER THE COUNTER!” 

I tried to open my eyes again but the attempt only resulted in raised eyebrows and an extended bottom lip.  “Uhhpp za da zee.” 

“Well I guess no ones going to have coffee today.  You emptied the pot and we’re completely out of coffee.  What’s the matter with you?  Did you pour coffee on your feet?” 

“Fe wa we fer.” 

This was like some existential out-of-body experience; I could sense Duana was somewhere near my legs.

“You’re not burned. I think its water. Either the grass is wet or Francis peed on your feet.” 

“Stuzid dwg pd non um? Wha de dodat?” 

“I don’t think it was Francis. You need to jump in the shower and see if you can achieve something that resembles a state of consciousness.” 

“Puhweez!” 

I walked into the shower and stood there trying to wake up feeling for the faucets but they eluded my grasp. “Drk n here, nite nite…”  It was perplexing, and taxing my medicated brain, the faucets were nowhere to be found.  I could feel a string on my face so I gave it a pull, the light came on and I managed to open my eyes enough to realize I was standing naked in the closet. All I have to say is, I’m glad that I never pee in the shower!

Thump, thump, thump… Duana was knocking on the closet door.

“Uhhhhh???” 

“What are you doing in there?” 

“I nekkid n here. Wha u doin oud dare?” 

Duana opened the door, “You’re not in the shower you’re in the closet.  What are you thinking?” 

“I was thinking… When did we carpet the shower?”

Somehow, some time later by some miracle I discovered I was dressed and ready to go to work; a miracle because I vaguely remember getting out of the shower and getting dressed. 

I checked the mirror as I headed for the door.  I only had one sideburn and my hair looked like I styled it with a leaf blower.  My shirt was halfway tucked in, buttoned wrong with a good portion of the shirt-tail sticking out of my zipper.  I had two different shoes on with two socks on one foot, a dog treat in my shirt pocket, toothbrush stuck behind one ear and a Q-Tip in the other. I didn’t have a lunch but I had bag full of trash in my hand.

“Larry, there is no way your going to drive to work today.” 

“I’m feeling better.  I know what I’m doing now.  Look, I know I had a rocky start but that was the allergy medicine.  I don’t need you telling me when I can drive to work and when I can’t.  I’m a grown man and I… Quit shaking your head! Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t go to work!” 

“You’re on vacation!”

“In that case, I’m going back to bed until the room quits spinning…”

.

“I’d love to go but I really need to get out there and work in the yard.”

“Nice try Larry, but next time you need to research your answer before you speak… its raining buckets!”

A look outside and I realize any further excuses would be useless.  Once you’ve given your, “ I’d love to but…”  you can’t give a follow-up reason.  My fate was set, my day was spent…

“Larry! 09:30 hours let’s move out!  Hold up – what’s that?”

“It’s a book.”

“You don’t need a book!  We’re going shopping!”

“I hate shopping, hours upon hours of touching, feeling, looking, comparing, fitting rooms, hold this, see if they have this in another color and “Oh this is cute!”  The redundancy is mind melting as rhetoric questions and non-rhetoric questions are asked leaving me with a dazed look as I breathe through my mouth trying to contemplate whether I should respond.” 

“We’re going shopping.  You read about the woman who was attacked in the parking lot at the mall.  How would you feel if that happened to me?”

This was one of those rhetorical questions that had me stymied in the past but I knew from experience there was no answer I could possibly give that was going to change my situation.  I hung my head as a dog after a scolding and headed for the car.

At the mall I slowly realized that through years of marriage I have evolved into a pack mule that follows the leader as she thrashes through sales racks with the skill of an expedition leader and the speed of a turtle. “At 70% plus 30%, the sale comes to 89% off the original retail; so this $200 dress becomes $22.00.  Isn’t this exciting?”

“I’m going to wait outside the store on the bench with all of the other lucky guys who are here shopping.” 

“No, you need to stay here with me.  Look at this…do you think Becky would like this?  What size do you think she would wear? This color or… Where are you going?”

“I need to go to the men’s room.”

“No you don’t, you’re just trying to get out of shopping.”

“I seriously need to go.” 

“You’re just making yourself go.”

“No, I’m currently making myself not go.  But if I don’t go, I will go and then we’ll have to go – so can I go before I go? Yes or no?”

“Just go, and quit dancing like one of Gladys Knights Pips.  Hurry back, we have more shopping to do.”

As I head out of the store I think of a line from the Green Mile, “Dead man walking boss!”   I was in no hurry to return and my pace can best be described by the fact that I was passed by an elderly couple using walkers.

I finish my task and slowly head back to the store looking at my watch calculating how long we’ve been here.  I turn to a complete stranger walking next to me, “Three hours! I’ve been here for three hours.  Why do they do this?  Don’t they know it takes years off our lives?”

“Chill dude I work here.  Why don’t you get a cup of coffee and relax.”

“Coffee… Yes… Coffee… The lines aren’t that long… Coffee…”

Ahhh, the smell of coffee is a miracle in itself.  Slowly the aroma was working its way into my senses bringing a feeling of peace, inner calm and happiness.  I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and there’s a Cheshire smile on my face that resembles a child about to see Santa. The anticipation of coffee has made me giddy enough that people around me have doubled my personal space and forego any direct eye contact with me.  Three people in front of me… Two… Just one more when my phone rings… “Hello”

“Where are you?”

“I thought I’d get a cup of coffee.”

“How are your going to carry a cup of coffee and all of these shopping bags?  Come on, I’m ready to go.”

The coffee barista turns to me, “Yes sir, what can I get for you?”

“Nothing thanks, I’m going home! I’m going home! I’m going home!

With new-found energy I skip back to the store laughing aloud as one does when a great burden has been lifted off their shoulders.  I find Duana and grab all the bags in the blink of an eye.  No finer pack mule exists as I spin and head for the exit.    

“Larry let me help you carry some of those bags.”

“No, it may slow you down.  I’ve got them, let’s go.”

I move through the crowds with the agility and grace of a downhill skier.  Knowing that the end was in sight, I pushed through the pain as the cords on the bags, combined with the sheer weight of Duana’s purchases, cut into my hands turning them blue as they gradually lost all feeling.   

Back at the car, I throw the bags in the back and jump in; happy to be going home.  I shake my hands trying to get some of the feeling back and reach for the keys.  But before I can get the keys into the ignition… “Okay, we need to make another stop at the mall in Plano, then Target, then the grocery store before we go home and I’m feeling a little hungry.  Let’s stop at that cute little bistro all the girls talk about. ” 

“More shopping?  Cute little bistro?  All the girls?  Why don’t we just go by the nail salon and get our nails done while we’re at it?”

“Ooooh, do you think we could?  Let me call the salon real quick and see if we can get in… 

What testosterone I had left was completely sucked away…

,

Little did I know that the excitement of planning a trip would soon develop into my own full throttle rampaged monologue that would continue non-stop for three days!

“Ok, I have you booked for two adult round-trip tickets from D-FW to Orlando. I’d like to remind you that if you decide to check you bags, there will be a $25.00 charge for the first checked bag and $35 for the second checked bag.  These charges are not round trip and will need to be paid again on your return trip.”

“There will also be an $8 charge if you decide to use one of our pillows and or blankets.  Do you have any questions regarding these charges?”

Hello???  Sir???  Are you there???  Sir???”

“Yes, I’m here and I may have to stay here!”

All of this sends my imagination into overdrive wondering out loud… “Will pay toilets be next on the list?”

“Ladies and gentlemen, the Captain has turned on the fasten seat belt sign.  Overhead bins are available for a nominal charge and if you haven’t already done so, please swipe your credit card to activate the release mechanism which will lower a seat cushion for your comfort and activate the seat belt release. For safety reasons we recommend that you keep your seatbelt fastened while seated however if the need arises for you to remove your seatbelt, there will be a slight reactivation fee.  

Make sure your seat back and folding trays are in their full upright position.  As flight attendants go through the cabin any passenger who has not complied will be charged a service fee to bring their seat back and folding trays to their full upright position. 

We ask that you now pay attention to the following safety instructions:        

This aircraft has 8 emergency exits, all marked with “EXIT”-signs: 2 in the front, 4 in the main cabin area and 2 in the rear.  Emergency lights on the floor will show you the way to the emergency exits.  These are currently available at no charge.

In the event of a loss in cabin pressure, oxygen masks will be automatically released above your seats.  Pull down the nearest mask, place it over mouth and nose and secure it with the elastic band.  To activate the flow of oxygen, insert your credit card into the slot provided, a $10 fee will be automatically charged.  For your convenience you may swipe your card now with the understanding that refunds will not be issued if this process is not necessary during your flight.

In the event of a water landing, life vests may be purchase to keep you afloat.   Place the life vest over your head, fasten the safety straps at the front of the vest and pull them tight. Do not inflate the vest inside the aircraft. After you leave the aircraft, deluxe models can be inflated by pulling down on the red tabs, while the basic models can be inflated by blowing through the tubes located on each side of the vest. Please note that the price of your flight does not include or guarantee you a place in the life raft.  Those positions will be determined by open bidding and any limits placed on your credit card.

If you have any questions about our flight today or your bill, please don’t hesitate to ask one of our cashiers… excuse me, I meant flight attendants.”

“Larry, calm down you’re going to bust a vein in your head, it’s not that bad.”

This may not seem like a big deal to you but there’s a principle involved here… Wait a minute!!! It’s not about the principle at all!  It’s about the money that keeps adding up with these fees!”

“What are you going to do?  It’s the same for everyone you just need to accept it and pack smart.”

“I’ll show you smart; I’m going to pack my carry-on bag to the full 50 pound limit, even if that means I have to take stuff I don’t need.  Then, if they try to charge me for my carry-on, I’m going to wear every bit of clothing I’ve packed for the trip; bathing suit, PJ’s, jacket, and five of everything else socks, underwear, pants, shirts…  Believe me, in time I’ll have the whole thing figured out so I won’t even need a bag.  I could even use the pockets on my pants to carry toiletries and accessories.”

I can tell Duana’s really not listening to anything I’ve said, she’s on autopilot making comments just to have the appearance that she’s listening. 

“Larry, you’re going to extremes here.”

“No, extremes would be vacationing at a nudist camp and jumping on the plane naked.”

“They won’t let you on the plane naked.”

“Then I’ll wear a thong!”

I have a feeling she’s listening now!  That telltale look of horror gives it away every time …

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Exercise or Exorcise

DAY 1
I hate rash decisions, like the one I made to that little voice inside my head committing that I would start walking / running / exercising on my first day without a job.  Well today’s the day and this morning the big voice inside my head was screaming at me, “Are you serious? It’s raining, lightning and the winds must be blowing just under hurricane force! What are you trying to accomplish? Do you want to die of pneumonia, lightning strike or cardiac arrest?  There’s really no advantage here except that if you catch pneumonia it would probably take the weight off faster than exercise.” 

Imagine my surprise when the other voice reminded me that we have a treadmill in our bedroom!  Did I ever mention how much I hate that other voice? “Where did that come from? How long have we had it?  Does it actually work?”

Yes, I’ve seen this machine from hell before but I honestly thought it was a clothes caddie. The handrails make a perfect clothes hook for my shirts, jackets and wet towels while the console area is great for slacks and finally the conveyor area;  perfect for shoes and the clothes basket full of clothes waiting to be folded. 

I found other uses for this device as well; the bar stool sets perfectly at the control area with a holding area for your phone, drink, remote control and book rest.  But one of the neatest things about the treadmill I discovered by accident! After sitting at the newly named “tread-bar” for a couple of hours reading and eating a turkey and cheese sandwich, I found clean-up a breeze.  Forget the days of dragging out the vacuum cleaner to pick-up those pesky crumbs.  Simply activate the conveyor belt…switch to a high setting and voila’! Clean floors with the flip of a switch! Ok, I fully realize the crumbs have just been relocated under the treadmill but let’s just call it the modern-day version of sweeping them under the rug. I tend to go with the out of sight out of mind philosophy on this one.

Yes, the treadmill is a versatile piece of hardware but if it were around in mid-evil times I am sure it’s primary use would not have been for exercise.  During the Spanish Inquisition this machine would have certainly been used to exorcise the devil from my soul instead of exercising Twinkies from my thighs! Exercise – exorcise… ummmm, I really wonder why the two words have so many similarities and yet one letter separates the two – or does it?

“Why are you in here reading?  I thought you were going to start running on the treadmill?”

“I was going to but the darn things broke!  Look I’m ready, I’ve got my running shoes on jogging shorts, tunes at the ready but the treadmills broke!

“What’s wrong with it?”

“It won’t turn on…”

“Did you plug it in?”

“I guess I could try plugging it in but it’s broke!  See!  Broke, busted, out-of-order, kaput, nada… just like me, It’s – Not – Working!”

“Did you insert the safety key that activates the auto stop?”

“Hey!  It’s working! Put the treadmill on my list of things that were broken and I’ve repaired!  Check, check and double-check!”

Ok, day one on the treadmill and I have had an epiphany. There’s a reason for the safety stop and there’s a reason why it should be connected to your body.  Let me share with you a few of the lessons I was taught today…

1. You should never walk on the treadmill with your eyes closed.
2. No amount of your wife’s make-up will hide a conveyor burn on your chin.
3. Switching to kilometers makes you feel that you’ve gone farther but it doesn’t burn anymore calories.

DAY 2
I awoke this morning to a couple of surprises, weigh in… gained a pound!  ”Are you kidding me?  What’s the point in exercising yesterday if I’m going to gain weight?”  I brush my teeth murmuring to myself about the extra pound using the toothbrush to garble my words.  “Mmrfphin freder froder frump…” 

“Larry, it’s just been one day.  You can’t expect results in one day, and besides that’s the least of your worries.”   

Washing my face I glanced in the mirror and discover what Duana meant…there on the end of my nose, was a pimple that certainly explained the pound I had gained overnight.  To add insult to injury I cut my lip when shaving and in my own attempt to stop the bleeding – I wet a hefty amount of toilet paper and push it against the cut to curb the bleeding.  “Why do guys do this? It doesn’t really work…if I remove the toilet paper, it starts bleeding again.  What am I suppose to do, leave the toilet paper on there until it heals?”

“Just leave it on the cut…with that giant pimple on the end of your nose no one’s going to notice the toilet paper stuck on your lip.” 

I started to say something but looking in the mirror I realized her evidence was staring me in the face.

Not to be deterred I moved on to the treadmill…toilet paper, pimple and all.   

This morning I decided to have a talk with the treadmill before I started and we came to an understanding, I don’t like walking on it anymore than it likes me walking on it – but if it quits trying to kill me then I won’t drag it into the backyard, smother it in gasoline and set it ablaze.  (I’ve set a box of matches in the water bottle area just to make sure it knows I mean business.)

DAY 3
Ah, this is great! Who says you can’t results in three days?  A conveyor burn on my chin, sprained wrist, giant pimple on my nose, cut lip and now…blisters!  Yes, this treadmill certainly gets results. 

Now all I need is a job interview…first impressions say so much! I figure if they’re concentrating on all of my treadmill mishaps they won’t be paying attention to anything I say!

“Who was that guy we interviewed yesterday?  You know the guy with the toilet paper stuck to his lip, the huge pimple on his nose, the burn on his chin, that walked strange and had his wrist wrapped…”

Well at least I’ll stand out from the rest! 

DAY 4
“With any exercise plan it’s important to have a goal.” 

I don’t know if this is what the pamphlet meant but today I don’t only need a goal but I need encouragement.  Ahhh, the ingenuity of modern man triumphs again showing his superior intelligence and inventiveness – pushing a thumb tack into the ceiling, with an attached string I wrap it around a Twinkie and place it just out of my reach.  I have achieved both goal and encouragement and in just forty-five minutes the Twinkie is my reward, yes? NO! I turn to get on the treadmill, insert the safety key and look up to see Francis sitting happily with a string sticking out of his mouth. 

“Francis, where’s the Twinkie?”  He takes off down the hallway at a trot and I’m fast on his heels.  “Francis, come!”  I don’t know why I was chasing him.  It’s not like I could get the Twinkie back nor did I want it back, but what I did get back was the thumb tack on the other end of the string.  Yep, stepped on it as we rounded the hall corner… that’s one way to pop a blister!

DAY 5
Today I’ve decided to use my time on the treadmill wisely; to pass the time I have decided to read while I walk away the pounds.  Ingenious!  I’ve seen people do it at the gym, how hard can it be?  What could possibly go wrong?

Reading and walking on the treadmill, I’m so proud of my accomplishment I briefly think about getting the video camera and recording this for posterity.  I say briefly because ten minutes into my walk, I don’t feel so well…  My head is starting to throb and I’m breaking out in a cold sweat.  “Why is the room swaying? Why do I feel so…???” 

“Larry? You’ve lost all your color; what’s wrong?” 

“I feel like I’m going to be…”  I barely make it to the bathroom before “BLAAAAGGGHHHH!!!”  Motion sickness!  

Eyes closed on my knees leaning over the toilet I feel Francis close to my face panting.  His concern shows as he tilts his head one way then the other but his hot doggie breath is not helping matters.  “Francis, there’s nothing to see here.  Get BLAAAAGGGHHHH…”   

“Larry!  Don’t talk to Francis that way, you know he’s sensitive.  Aren’t you baby?”

“BLAAAAGGGHHH…”

Exercising on the treadmill really isn’t giving me the results I had hoped for.

DAY 6
Today I really thought the treadmill had come to life and was attempting to take mine. Somehow I must have hit the auto-program button which started a whole sequence of events that I swore was reminiscent of HAL in 2001: A Space Odyssey.

After about two minutes the speed started to increased so gradually that until the treadmill achieved top speed, I was unsure if my imagination or the treadmill was in overdrive.  “How are you doing Larry?  Are you aware that speed kills? I’m sorry Larry, I can’t hear you over the huffing and puffing.”

Next the front of the treadmill started to rise ever so slightly until finally the grade was so steep I felt that I was running up the side of El Capitan.  “The air is rather thin up here Larry…do you feel your lungs are about to burst? Why do you hate me? Are you aware that the matches you threaten me with won’t light at this altitude?”

Before I passed out I pulled the safety cord stopping the machine just short of cardiac arrest and feeling a bit faint.  A voice inside my head was giving me instructions, “Lay down before you fall down.” Gasping for air, Francis came running to my rescue.  “Good boy Francis, worried about your master…need air, no lick, back Francis, no lick! Crap Francis! I’m dying here; what is it?”  Francis disappeared returning with his bowl, I guess he wanted to make sure he got to eat before I die… we all have our priorities.

 DAY 7
In the spirit of Easter – I’ve given the treadmill up for Lent.

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