Our treadmill is our bedroom and spends approximately 98.2 of its energy holding up enormous piles of my husband's pants. These clothes are in limbo: not going back in the closet and apparently not yet ready for laundry. He is very picky about these pants. So it is with great care that I move these (literally almost too heavy and awkward for me to pick up) stacks of clothes from the treadmill to the bed when I run.
You may wonder why I've been running on the treadmill for days in a row when...
a. I hate the treadmill
b. I almost always only run the obligatory 1 mile when on the treadmill because of "a."
and c. I must wrestle with these piles of dress pants.
It's because I'm very easily distracted by vacuuming under the couch/making pot roast/Oprah/sitting on the porch with visitors/pretending to take care of our vegetable garden/generally anything else until suddenly it's dark! You would think I would catch onto this whole "get dark at night thing." Maybe tomorrow.
No comments:
Post a Comment