Just exercised five days in a row. FIVE!
Rode the recumbent exercise bike every day this week. So far.
It is not entirely outside the realm of possibility - I pull it off every once in a while. But it ain't easy.
Sometimes I'm lazy, sometimes I'm depressed, sometimes I'm tired, sometimes I have too many picayune, bullshit things to do.
I am a warrior, though.
I exercise a lot more often than friends and family give me credit for. I can safely say over the course of my miniaturized life I have exercised more often than not. And over the past five years I have been singularly dedicated.
Still I remain fat, slow moving and generally unaware, so friends and family condemn me as sloth-like.
Doesn't matter. I know who I am.
Here's my dilemma. What do I do now? Go for six in a row? That would be truly unprecedented.
My natural inclination is to run out and buy a jug of premium whiskey and a double rack of pretentious beer and spend the weekend lying on my back on the living room floor, dead drunk, as dark movies light up the television screen.
By way of celebration.
There are pros and cons to that plan.
Con - Carol would pretend to stumble every time she stepped over me, furiously kicking me in the head in the process.
Pro - The cats would take turns sleeping on my chest.
I am not a solid decision maker. I considered turning to Jesus for advice, but what the fuck does he know? He is a goddamn wino and a pacifist. Probably never exercised one day in his life.
Let's face it - he does look a bit like a sally boy.
It's a lot to ponder. A crushing burden, as it were.
I'll figure it out.
Salvation or destruction. A fascinating dilemma.
These are the crossroads that make life interesting, baby.