Leaving the bubble

No shit, we went to the gym tonight. This was after both of us got off work early on account of the huge whomping honkload of snow that fell and blew and drifted and still yet this very minute threatens to smother us all like a massive down pillow wielded by a cruel giant nurse. We got all the way home through the snow and somehow I got my car in the garage and wandered through the snowdrifts and made it upstairs and then Chris and I actually made the conscious decision to go back downstairs and get in the car and drive to the gym. And there we did some very nice cardio-kind-of-things while the wind raged outside the big gym windows. And then we drove home and almost didn’t get the car back in the garage. But we did it. WHY DID WE DO IT? I don’t know. But you must understand how I had to report it.

It does help that it’s only a five-minute drive. Well, ten or fifteen minutes in the middle of fuck-all-to-hell winter rush hour traffic, but still. While we were stomping down the snow-drifty back stairs we kept talking, oddly enough, about how awesome it is to be snowed in when the weather is like this, where you just shut yourself in like a frontiersman and watch movies for five hours. And it IS awesome! Especially when you live with Chris! Do you know how many videos he has? And yet we just continued to clamber down the stairs and go to the gym as if we were talking about merely a theoretical universe in which shitloads of snow gets dumped on us and compels us to stay inside. I know, right? Maybe it’s because we know that tomorrow we are going out to dinner and we could use a good cardio kind-of-thing. Or maybe it’s because once I decide to do something I really hate being thwarted. And lo, we were not thwarted.

Of course now we are also very tired, after the snow and the gym and fixing dinner and watching The Boy in the Bubble starring John Travolta. (We found the DVD at a dollar store.)

And now we’re going to sleep.