After my previous sporting-related incident, I am beginning to think that the Universe would just prefer me to be lazy.
This morning Gary and I got up and headed to the gym. The gym we go to is on 39th Avenue, and we were pulling up to the light at 36th Ave when I realized that I had forgotten my iPod at home.
So we turned the car around, I went upstairs, iPod retrieved, and back to the car. Fitness, here we come!
Well, I gave it pretty good on the elliptical and then the stationary bike, working up a sweat to burn off the previous night`s pub fare (chicken cajun caesar salad droooool). I mean, I really gave all I had. That Glee soundtrack had me pounding out all my stress on the machines. I was dripping with sweat by the time I finished a few sets of crunches and stretched out. Man, I could not wait to shower off and get on with my day full of errands, conveniently located in the same neighbourhood as the gym. Bliss! Endorphins! Lattes!
It was at this point that I remembered that the gym on 39th Avenue, the one we go to on Sundays, does not have the same services as the gym we go to on Saturdays. The Saturday gym is closed on Sundays. That is why we go to this 39th Avenue location.
And the most important service the downtown Saturday gym has? Towel service.
So after my great workout, I had a great shower. Then I dried myself off with my sweaty tshirt, climbed into my clean clothes while still mostly damp, and tried to finish the job with the hair-dryer.
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