I’ve been told I exercise too much. Cougars do need to keep in shape. I promised to take a break every fourth day in spite of my addiction to moving. This morning it should have come as no surprise when after succumbing to guilt exercise fairies foiled my plans.
As is my customary routine, I went downstairs to the lobby dressed in my work-out garb (or jammies depending on how badly I need caffeine) to grab a cup of joe to jump start my heart so I can move. Sometimes even cougars need a little incentive. After filling my favorite mug and picking up a complimentary copy of USA today, I took the elevator to my room. I made it successfully down the long hallway without spilling a drop. That’s when my luck ended.
It was the door. The heavy door with a mind of its own. I transferred the newspaper and the mug to my right hand and armpit, although I don’t know why because I’m not left-handed, except it felt easier at the time. I managed to insert the key and get the door partly open just fine. It was when I decided to slide the mug of coffee through the doorway while holding everything on my right side, and put the mug on the bathroom counter that it hit me. The door, I mean. This was not the kind of hot entrance I’d always dreamed of making.
The carpet fared as bad as my clothes. This was going to require more than a towel to soak it up. I requested the hotel’s steam machine. No hurry. I ate my breakfast. Since I looked like drek with huge coffee stains gracing my chest and pants I made an executive
decision and canceled the work-out. I headed for the shower.
This is the same walk-in shower with a glass door whose floor was retiled the day before. Only the caulking wouldn’t allow me to close the door completely. What to do? When tugging didn’t work, I decided to slam it shut. Good, the glass didn’t break. As water cascaded over me I had an unsettling thought. What if I can’t get the door open when I’m done? I got a mental image of me yelling for help. Remember the glass door?
I know I should take more advantage of being a cougar. I’ve worked hard to get this body buff. I’ve even surprised myself with the number of inhibitions I’ve overcome since living in a hotel. If you’d have asked me twenty years ago if I could ever allow myself to be seen without makeup or with “bed-head,” I’d of said No Way. I think I’ve come a long ways in letting go of a negative body image I’ve held over the years. But naked?
Now that’s another story. I am positive several guys who work here would have happily volunteered to be the one to hand me a towel after rescuing me. I’m just not sure how long it would have taken them to hand it to me.
I made sure the door would open.
As is my customary routine, I went downstairs to the lobby dressed in my work-out garb (or jammies depending on how badly I need caffeine) to grab a cup of joe to jump start my heart so I can move. Sometimes even cougars need a little incentive. After filling my favorite mug and picking up a complimentary copy of USA today, I took the elevator to my room. I made it successfully down the long hallway without spilling a drop. That’s when my luck ended.
It was the door. The heavy door with a mind of its own. I transferred the newspaper and the mug to my right hand and armpit, although I don’t know why because I’m not left-handed, except it felt easier at the time. I managed to insert the key and get the door partly open just fine. It was when I decided to slide the mug of coffee through the doorway while holding everything on my right side, and put the mug on the bathroom counter that it hit me. The door, I mean. This was not the kind of hot entrance I’d always dreamed of making.
The carpet fared as bad as my clothes. This was going to require more than a towel to soak it up. I requested the hotel’s steam machine. No hurry. I ate my breakfast. Since I looked like drek with huge coffee stains gracing my chest and pants I made an executive
decision and canceled the work-out. I headed for the shower.
This is the same walk-in shower with a glass door whose floor was retiled the day before. Only the caulking wouldn’t allow me to close the door completely. What to do? When tugging didn’t work, I decided to slam it shut. Good, the glass didn’t break. As water cascaded over me I had an unsettling thought. What if I can’t get the door open when I’m done? I got a mental image of me yelling for help. Remember the glass door?
I know I should take more advantage of being a cougar. I’ve worked hard to get this body buff. I’ve even surprised myself with the number of inhibitions I’ve overcome since living in a hotel. If you’d have asked me twenty years ago if I could ever allow myself to be seen without makeup or with “bed-head,” I’d of said No Way. I think I’ve come a long ways in letting go of a negative body image I’ve held over the years. But naked?
Now that’s another story. I am positive several guys who work here would have happily volunteered to be the one to hand me a towel after rescuing me. I’m just not sure how long it would have taken them to hand it to me.
I made sure the door would open.