I was right. Going back to the gym was no picnic. I had no problem with the weights, but oh boy, the elliptical machine. It’s not even that I felt exhausted. I just couldn’t get my heart rate up and leveled off to where it used to be. Bummer. I’m sure glad I got up early to go for a walk before the humidity hit, because I don’t feel like I got a good work out today.
For the past two days, I’ve experienced life imitating art. I’d been concerned about an underlying theme of my mystery being accurately written. I wasn’t sure if the way I was portraying it was actually possible. The Universe came to my assistance. I lived it. You’ll just have to wait for it.
The fire alarm went off after supper today. I’m convinced it’s another false alarm from the bar that opened downstairs. So, I decided not to go down. But the screech was deafening. I still took my time hoping it would just shut up. I tried to call downstairs, but the line was busy. I still waited. Finally, I couldn’t take the alarm anymore. I was so sure it was a false alarm I left my laptop on when I walked down several flights of stairs. I had on my slippers which kept coming off my feet. I also had a very full stomach since I had just eaten a large
meal.
I get downstairs to a deserted lobby. Everyone’s outside with the fire trucks. I roll up on someone I know to ask what’s going on, and to be reassured this is just more construction folly. It seems the hallway between our building and theirs was full of smoke. Yours truly got her ass up the four flights of stairs faster than the speed of light, in spite of having to grip her toes to keep her slippers on. I’m not wasting fifteen years of work just so it can go up in flames if this turned out to be real, which fortunately, it wasn’t. I ran all the way down the stairs hauling my laptop case stuffed with everything I could think of to save, as well as my purse which weighs the equivalent of a small freighter. After all that, I found out the smoke was really thick construction dust that had set off the
alarm. I’m hoping to have at least lost the weight I gained from that big dinner in the process of running up and down the stairs.
Still no sign of Squid. Brick is reducing his hours. Confidante is going away for a couple of days. Mr. Madison is off. Who am I going to play pool with? I suppose I could play against myself, but I’m too competitive. How would that work?
On a sad note, I lost a friend to lung cancer this week. He’d just finished his sixth out of twelve treatments. He was craving a hot fudge sundae, which his sister indulged him. After enjoying it, he fell asleep and never woke up. I guess if it’s your time to leave, enjoying your favorite dessert before you go is a great way to take your leave from this life, before starting the next with a sweeter advantage. We’ll miss you Roger.
For the past two days, I’ve experienced life imitating art. I’d been concerned about an underlying theme of my mystery being accurately written. I wasn’t sure if the way I was portraying it was actually possible. The Universe came to my assistance. I lived it. You’ll just have to wait for it.
The fire alarm went off after supper today. I’m convinced it’s another false alarm from the bar that opened downstairs. So, I decided not to go down. But the screech was deafening. I still took my time hoping it would just shut up. I tried to call downstairs, but the line was busy. I still waited. Finally, I couldn’t take the alarm anymore. I was so sure it was a false alarm I left my laptop on when I walked down several flights of stairs. I had on my slippers which kept coming off my feet. I also had a very full stomach since I had just eaten a large
meal.
I get downstairs to a deserted lobby. Everyone’s outside with the fire trucks. I roll up on someone I know to ask what’s going on, and to be reassured this is just more construction folly. It seems the hallway between our building and theirs was full of smoke. Yours truly got her ass up the four flights of stairs faster than the speed of light, in spite of having to grip her toes to keep her slippers on. I’m not wasting fifteen years of work just so it can go up in flames if this turned out to be real, which fortunately, it wasn’t. I ran all the way down the stairs hauling my laptop case stuffed with everything I could think of to save, as well as my purse which weighs the equivalent of a small freighter. After all that, I found out the smoke was really thick construction dust that had set off the
alarm. I’m hoping to have at least lost the weight I gained from that big dinner in the process of running up and down the stairs.
Still no sign of Squid. Brick is reducing his hours. Confidante is going away for a couple of days. Mr. Madison is off. Who am I going to play pool with? I suppose I could play against myself, but I’m too competitive. How would that work?
On a sad note, I lost a friend to lung cancer this week. He’d just finished his sixth out of twelve treatments. He was craving a hot fudge sundae, which his sister indulged him. After enjoying it, he fell asleep and never woke up. I guess if it’s your time to leave, enjoying your favorite dessert before you go is a great way to take your leave from this life, before starting the next with a sweeter advantage. We’ll miss you Roger.