Monday, January 30, 2012

Fresh Laundry Smell

I hate laundry.  I would really like a family closet in the laundry room so that I could cut some steps out of the "wash-fold-drop-refold-carry to multiple locations-unfold to hang-wear-carry heap to laundry room-wash" cycle.  I don't know why it annoys me so, but it does.

I do however love the smell of fresh laundry.  Usually I just use candles to imitate it instead of actually doing laundry, but anyways.

As previously stated, I hate running.  I also hate spending money and at this point I haven't been able to justify a gym membership.  Since I almost threw a brick at my TV when Jillian Michaels last yelled at me, this leaves me with the side walk, my feet, and my growing-in-size- ass.  (Unless my kind husband reads this and wants to steal an Xbox Kinect for me with the dancing games.  Nothing says "love" like thievery.)

In the past week I have ran three times.  That's three more times than in the past six months.  And I can tell.  1.5 miles felt like death.  The 2 miles I just did gave me a side stitch so bad I doubled over and pretty much mooned the mail man.  You know why it is so hard?  Because my subdivision has hills.  So much for the flat and boring Midwest.  I'm guessing they are as big as in California.  Am I being a bit dramatic because I don't want o admit how grossly out of shape I am?  You bet. But are there massive hills I can't handle?  Uh huh.

See, look.  Off in the distance, how it goes up...  I've learned to not take this street.
And my husband didn't believe me.  That fool.

So when I'm running up the massive hill and get a whiff of the delicious fresh laundry steam coming from a nearby home, I imagine I am in a field of flowers in California, instead of the sleet and ice covered Midwest hill I'm actually trying to make it up.  Makes it a little bit easier to swallow.

My sister wants me to run an 8K with her.  I want to run it because they give you beer when you are done.

Aside for the running, I would like to live my life more like this:

I barely danced at my high school prom because I was so self conscious, and now look at me.  No shame.  I want to keep growing and getting comfortable in my skin.  I want to embrace the free spirit that is trapped so deep down in my soul, that I kind of doubt she exists.  But every now and then she sneaks out.

Here's to a wonderful free spirited week with some miserable running mixed in.  Wish me luck.

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