This is not a rant. It could be, I just don’t have the steam to put into it today. If you’ve paid attention, you know my schedule changed dramatically this week to handle computer issues. Beginning bright and early Monday morning, priorities had to shuffle and slide. Some normal but not essential activities were set aside to pay attention to regaining an electronic presence.
One of the activities curtailed was my exercise routine. Normally, that’s modest upper and lower body weight-work, good old karate warm-up stretches, and a decent sweat-producing run. Driving back and forth to computer shacks and investing time in non-writing computer activities, there was no “exercise” until today, Friday.
I’m an idiot. Normally off on weekends, that made six days I’d been idle. You know “idle” means I skipped my exercise program. So, nearly caught-up, did I ease myself back into a routine? Nope. Went at it tooth and nail, skipped nothing, used the same weights, ran the same distance, and ignored my body’s complaints while stretching that some of the rubber bands were about to snap, joints were crackling, and if I didn’t mind P’s and Q’s, something would pop.
I’m a lucky idiot. Nothing is broken for all the snap, crackle, and pop. I’m going to feel some unfamiliar soreness tomorrow morning. Mowing the lawn tomorrow afternoon, or Sunday maybe because of the rain, will be a challenge.
When I finished my workout around one in the afternoon today, I showered and thought I’d lay down for ‘just a little bit.’ The Bossmobile delivered the Boss home early. She’s under direction to work no overtime. Exigencies at the start of the week demanded overtime that dictated her week be finished early Friday.
This idiot was still snoozing. After I woke and figured out who I was, where I was, and why I was, we chatted a bit, until the Boss excused herself to place a phone call to cancel an appointment. At least, that’s as I understood it.
“…so, I don’t need to make an appointment,” she stated.
“You mean you don’t have an appointment to cancel?”
“Then why are you calling? Um, lemme see. You’re calling to cancel an appointment you don’t have?”
“Um. Nobody does that. You don’t feel inclined to do something that was a ‘maybe,’ you just don’t do it. It’s the American way!”
“I told them I’d call.”
“Doesn’t make any difference. That’s even more so the American way. You don’t want to do something that was a maybe, you just don’t do it. No explaining, no courtesy call, no nothing! You spend the extra five now unallocated minutes of your life doing something important – like FacePages!”
That got me a ‘you horse’s ass!’ look. Which was okay. Because most of the time I am exactly that. I got by with it in this case because the Boss knows I was wearing my cynic hat. I’m usually either a cynic or flat-out caustic. Because I have a poor opinion of people.
Lest you assume I think I’m not one of ‘the people,’ let me assure you I am painfully aware I am one of ‘the people.’ That scares the hell out of me. It also drives me to improve. That, I admit is not an easy task. Never has been. Never will be. But I stay at it. Focus. One must remain focused. One day, I will be able to believe I’m a shade better than most of the other ‘the people.’
But I will still be an idiot.
Heads-up. There are two new “Life’s Like That” entries in the Writing drop down menu. The first, a “Here’s the Deal” piece, “Chocolate Ice Cream” like today’s post, is rant-ish, but not a full-blown rant. More a tongue-in-cheek poke at who we are, or who we’ve let ourselves become. When I figure-out whether the reason things are the way they are is because we are lazy or because as a species, we are inherently evil, I may revisit the subject. Then, there’s a “Five Minute Segment” piece, “Tire Pressure.” That’s just as the grouping suggests a bit of “Life’s Like That.”
Oh. I apologize to my international readers. In the “Chocolate” piece. We’re still working with gallons here in the US. Which is about 3.8 liters. I expect you know that, and only mean to remind of the conversion. I’ll bet you though, that most people in the US have no idea of liter/gallon conversions. As a country in the last twenty-five or so years of the 1700’s we got so self-impressed here that we maybe took the “independence” thing to ridiculous extremes. We’ve not fully recovered. Except for gasoline (petrol) and a few other items, gallons are losing significance here. “Chocolate Ice Cream” explains that.
Oh number two. Those of you in the US who feel insulted over what I just said, yourself thinking people in the US more intelligent, more “international,” than I intimate, I’d suggest you look around you. Carefully. Good heavens: we are a country of boobs.