^^^ This is happening right now on my desktop computer. I think it’s updating. I know I’ve mentioned this before, but why must everything need updating every five minutes?
So I’ll update you (see what I did there?) on the thrills of my life by speaking into the phone, from the comfort of my leather chair that I bought at the secondhand store. I love this chair. It is brown and full of scratches and gouges and it’s super-extra comf. I understand if you have to leave forever, no contact, now that I’ve said “comf.”
At the store they called this chair a cowboy chair and I totally fell for that. Really it’s just a scratched-up old leather chair. I wish I’d say “chair” more often.
Anyway, now that I’m sitting somewhere different, now that I’m in a cowboy …chair, I’m discombobulated and can’t remember a damn thing I was going to tell you.
…Oh! My trainer!
This could mean a million things, couldn’t it? Aren’t trainers tennis shoes? And braces? And pants you get to pee in? Wouldn’t that be magnificent. “I have to pee. Oh, wait, I can just do it right here.”
Also a bra. A trainer can be a bra.
But in this case, the trainer was a very likable woman who led me through a bunch of weight-lifting exercises, some calisthenics, if you will, and —
Oh my god. I finally just got back on my real desktop after that phony update, and there was a little red 1 on my Apps app (ironic) THAT NEEDED UPDATING.
I JUST UPDATED.
If they’re going to constantly cry wolf about things being updated, they can’t get all uppity when we stop doing it and something breaks. Don’t tell us we need to update every four seconds. GOD.
Anyway. Here’s my point. I went to my trainer for the first time yesterday and we did a bunch of workout-y things with weights and also an elliptical and also a cucumber bike or whatever it’s called, and it was hard but not so hard I wanted to die of death, but what’s really important here is that
He is brindle-colored, like a peanut-butter cup, and he is half great Dane, half Lab. OH MY GOD. And no, I didn’t say, “Hey, will you hold this weight while I go get m’phone to take a picture of your dog?”
But I luff him. I luff him BAD. He is super extra chill and I petted him in between rounds or acts or whatever it’s called when you lift weights.
Last night I came home and ate chicken and spinach like a grownup. So far what hurts on me postworkout is just my right wrist, but that could be from all those hand jobs.
…I just got up to get more coffee and am happy to alert you that also the fronts of my thighs hurt. My quadrophenias or whatever.
Anyway, I would just love to show you some pictures of, I don’t know, pets and shit, but my computer is not letting me access photos since this charming update. Did I mention I have been updating? I got the first photo above up here by extreme measures from my phone and I’m not leaving this post again to go speak into my phone.
So, in general, this was a dumb post, and one wonders why I didn’t just say, “Aw, fuck it” and not post at all. But I didn’t want you to think I’d expired at the training bra last night.
P.S. [Update. BAH.] Faithful Reader Helen suggested we write in with photos of our favorite coffee or tea mug. I like this idea. Email me at firstname.lastname@example.org and please title your email MUG. Otherwise I will get 700 emails with different titles and I’ll never find them all.
Send me the photo and maybe your blog/commenter/what you want your name to be name and if there’s a little mug story, include it. Please send by 9 p.m. eastern time today. THANK YOU.