There Are Worse Things I Coud Do....

….And maybe not.

Ever have one of those moments of pure, undiluted embarrassment where you swear you could curl up and fit yourself into a paper towel tube?

I had one of those this morning.

Some of you reading this have already been privy to it, but I felt I had to write about it. It happened a couple of hours ago, but I still feel bad.

There's a guy here at work that occasionally comes in and smells a little stale...like he hasn't really bathed in a few days. Not stinky, just like he hasn't really sudsed up enough, or just thought that because he hadn’t been active in a day or so that bathing wasn’t needed. Plus his clothes sometimes have that

stale smell like they've been wadded up and not washed for awhile, or even slept in for a few days. Like he wore the t-shirt and sweatpants to bed for a few nights, then got up too late to change – or just didn’t see the point.

He doesn’t reek or stink; my friend and co-worker Keith and I used to work with a guy at Stream who smelled utterly rotten. Like his own body odor and oils had soured and gone bad. I thought he had dark brown hair, until one day he came in, oddly and surprisingly washed, and I discovered his hair was actually basically blond. He always seemed to wear the same pants (which had greasy marks on his thighs, like he wiped his hands there) and the same two or three shirts.

I once had a three week training with him and had to sit next to him. After three days I went to the instructor (one of the managers for the team I worked on) and said, “You have to let me move to another seat.”

And he knew I was serious. He tried to smother a laugh and be serious, but his eyes were sparking with too much humor when he said, “I can’t let you do that. Besides it can’t be that bad.”

“Clearly you haven’t gotten within 10 feet of him,” I said.

“He smells, I’ll give you that, but it’s not so bad you can’t sit next to him.”

“Clint,” I said, “if you don’t let me change seats I’m filing a complaint for inhuman working standards.”

He laughed and let me move down a seat or two – then to try to prove a point, he sat between the guy and me. He moved after a few minutes back to the front of the room; later, he pulled me aside and said, “Heather, you’re right. It is that bad.”

My co-worker at Stream was spoken to several times, and was eventually fired for his personal hygiene habits – or non-habits, really. The thing was, he was a nice enough guy, but you had to wonder about the mental stability of someone who couldn’t grasp the concept of bathing daily and putting on clean clothes.

So granted, things could be worse.

My fellow co-worker here just occasionally smells a bit (though pungently) stale. He’s a downright rose garden compared to that other fellow.

I have a feeling you might be surmising what happened. So on to what caused me to want to stuff myself into a paper towel tube and wait for a strong wind to roll me away.

I know my co-worker here has been having a rough time personally, and when things like that happen, it can make simple things really difficult – even washing clothes and bathing. But still; it’s something that – at least in our culture – is expected in polite company. For lack of a better way to put it.

It’s been going on for awhile, and apparently a couple of other co-workers have been telling our manager something needs to be said for quite some time, but he hasn’t. Granted, I completely understand it’s an embarrassing, uncomfortable thing to discuss with someone – especially when it’s someone you really like. But the longer something that someone truly needs to know is put off it can build into a potentially humiliating moment for all involved.

Yes, that’s where I come in.

I stepped out of my cube just as my co-worker turned and walked down the hall leading to his cube; he was approximately 10-15 feet ahead of me and I got a whiff of stale clothing.

When I got back to my desk, I opened up a chat window to talk to Keith (my friend from Stream who now works with me here again). Here’s what I said: Bleah. [ ] smells like he's wearing clothes he hasn't washed in a while and as slept in. They have that stale smell.

Keith didn’t reply, which I thought was odd.

Then, to my ultimate horror I saw why: I’d pulled up the chat window for the co-worker, not Keith.

I felt utterly, completely mortified.

I’d feel bad even if it had been someone I didn’t like (that once happened to me in college; I said something about a girl in the dorm I didn’t like, and it got back to her. She confronted me about it and I felt awful; it made me very mindful about gossiping of any kind, especially around potential grapevines.)

Immediately, I said to my co-worker, “I’m so sorry! I’m totally humiliated!”

He wrote back, “You should be embarrassed. Given you haven’t even been near me at all this morning.”

I wasn’t going to try to explain what had happened, given I was already choking on my own ankle. And I sure can’t blame him for being snarky with his reply. I likely would be, too.

But I guess it was meant to happen. At least he knows now -- if not in a kind manner. I just wish he’d been spoken to earlier (by the proper people) so that the potential for something like this had been eradicated.

I apologized profusely, I know he knows I feel bad – and my manager’s going to follow up with him, too. At least it’s happening on a Friday and not a Monday; I guess the Universe manages to hand out small favors from time to time!

But, dear God in Heaven – why did it have to be me that passed along the information?!

I know he’ll (eventually) get over it; we’re friends. And I’ll (eventually) get over the knot of humiliation that’s still slapping around in me. It just came at a really bad time for him, given everything else that’s going on in his life at the moment.

Somehow, though, I don’t think overhearing, “You stink” at any time in your life is a fun thing.

I’m laughing at myself now (though I still feel bad for my co-worker), so at least I’m feeling better about it. But if you see a paper towel tube rolling by later today and see a corner of a denim jacket sticking out of it – that’s just me. I’ll be sure to wave if I can get my arm out.

That way you can hand me some salt to go with my foot; it has a rather bland taste to it this morning.

Common Courtesy No Longer Seems to be Common

Those of you who are familiar with my job know I deal with a lot of email. The overall term for my job is “customer service”, and we do a damnably good job at that, but the main course of my job is working as a life coach.

If you’re unfamiliar with that (beyond the psycho “life coach” personified on last season’s Nip/Tuck), what we essentially do is to help people learn how to move forward in their lives, past what they feel is keeping them from creating roadblocks to doing so. We do spend some time going into someone’s past, but, unlike a psychologist that aids someone in healing past traumas, we help people in moving forward.

There is a lot of psychology involved in my job, certainly, and it’s tough some days dealing with so many people’s issues.

Don’t get me wrong – I love my job, even though it can be quite draining at times. I love the feeling I get on the phone when someone makes a shift and goes away feeling like they’ve got the capability to move past whatever prompted the call. I do much of my job through email – which can make it harder because there’s no intonation in voices and no immediate feedback I can get from someone for questions. But even that is very rewarding and I do it very well.

I know my job deals with a sector of humanity that feels broken and as if they need to be fixed; many of the people who call are dysfunctional in many ways, and they can be quite difficult to deal with at times. But they’re coming to us for help and anyone who’s ever been involved in any form of personal growth will know it’s not easy to start creating the life you want.

Most people who contact us are gracious and kind and willing to do the work. They may call and be frustrated or grumpy – even to the point of anger – about something, but with some patience and understanding from our end, 99 times out of 100 that person goes away with the issue taken care of (or with better understanding how to work on it more on their own). They may not be happy at the end of the call or at the end of the email exchanges, but at least they go away satisfied. I can pretty much turn anyone around – even outright rude people.

But every once in awhile a customer will cross my path that hits on a nerve.

I understand that the way we run our company will not be to everyone’s liking. One of the things we do is send out information about other personal growth programs that people might like, along with lots of information about our program in general. It can be rather overwhelming, especially for someone who’s new to the program, and likely feeling rather swamped and stressed by life as it is. It can occasionally elicit a sense of insulted rage in someone, and we frequently get requests from people to remove them from our mailing lists.

We understand, and we’re happy to oblige.

Most people who write in may sound somewhat harassed (which I can understand), but aren’t rude or jerks about it. It’s possible to be upset – even enraged about something – but still be polite. But in the example of an email I got the other day, apparently that concept is beyond the understanding of some people.

One of the functions of my job is that I receive all of the support email that comes into the company. This means I have to cull and sort through a hundred or so emails – or more – a day; I cull out the spam and other junk email, then parcel out the email to the rest of the team. But I do most of it. The questions can vary from, “What’s the price of the next level?” to “My father is very overbearing; how can I deal with him?” As well as the request for removal from our mailing lists.

Yesterday, one of the first emails I came to was such a request. Most people write in and, as I said, are very polite in their requests. Oh, they may say something like, “Take me off your stupid mailing list. You send out too much crap,” but at least it’s done in a politely irritated manner. I don’t mind those.

But I got one that really struck a nerve. The subject was: “Automated SPAM CRAP!” and the body of the email was essentially this:

“Please take me off your fabulous automatic support inquisition program
OKOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOKO
OKOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOOKKOOKOKOK
OKOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOK
iTS COUNTER PRODUCTIVE TO THE SONIC MIND SOOTHING
PROGRAMS YOU HUSTLE, ESPECIALLY IF YOU WANT TO SELL THEM
dONT ANSWER THIS JUST F...ING STOP.”

I paused at the last line, both surprised -- and not, as well as apalled -- and not.

Usually I let that type of emails go as it's not worth my time and energy to reply. But this time I didn't. I wrote back:

“Hello,

Thank you for your email.

We would be glad to take you off our list.

However, when making a request to us, please do us the courtesy of speaking to us in a similar manner by which you would wish to be treated.

We value all of our customers and their wishes, but I'm certain that you'd likely prefer not to be sworn at when a request is being made of you.

Regards,

Heather Self
Support Team Coach”

His reply:

“Get over it (please.)”

On one hand, yes, he has a point.

But on the other, he doesn't.

It both enraged and saddened me. Enraged me because he was an insulting jerk, but saddened me because he likely didn’t have the ability to realize that what he’d done was insulting and was appalling. I find it very saddening and frustrating that we live in a world where so many people think that it’s okay to treat people in that manner, that we have somehow found it okay to teach ourselves – and other people – that this is acceptable. When truly, it isn’t.

Had he had me face to face or even on the phone he likely would not have spoken in that manner (though one time I did have a man speak to me in exactly that manner and what I said to him was – in an extremely polite tone, “Sir, I realize you’re very frustrated and I would be, too. But what makes you think I’d be willing to do anything for you with the way you’re treating me? I’d be willing to guess that if I were coming into your store and were treating you in this same way you’d kick me out.” He paused, blustered a bit, and then said, “Oh…I’m sorry.” We had a good call after that).

But in this day and age when so much can and is done by email, it seems that manners don’t need to exist.

You get angry, you can shoot off an angry and insulting email because you’re doing it through a machine so it doesn’t matter, right?

Well, to all the people out there who believe this: I’m sorry, but no. You’re wrong. There’s still a human being on the other computer getting your email.

Computers and emails and the Internet are amazing, incredible tools that I’m extremely thankful for. But there’s a dynamic creeping into our culture that’s worrisome to me at times. We can order groceries online, clothes, music, correspondence, school and jobs online. There’s no reason for us to leave the house, really, except for the (rare) occasions we want some human interaction.

But what happens is that because so much of our lives have been “defaced”, we seem to forget how to have that human interaction. There’s a an accepted rudeness that I see creeping in everywhere – from emails like the one above, to the chatterboxes at movie theaters that have forgotten that we aren’t in their living rooms where it’s okay to yak away about the lawyer’s tie or clomp around and announce they need food and to go to the bathroom.

And don’t get me started about the woman behind me in the line at the grocery store, happily chatting away on her cell phone to a friend about co-workers and an upcoming surgery she was going to have – in detail.

Along with that accepted rudeness there’s a counterbalancing accepted unawareness that people have donned to make the rudeness okay and acceptable.

You know, like the idiot at the movie theater who answered his phone in the middle of the film – and said to his friend, “Yeah, dude. I’m at the movie. It’s pretty cool.” And then went on to tell his friend about it – just in case those of us around him hadn’t caught onto the fact we’d been following along pretty well.

I was about to tell him to shut up when a guy in the row in front of me turned around and said, “Dude, if you don’t turn that thing off – !”

The guy on the phone looked around, suddenly aware of where he was and hung up quite quickly. But glared at us as if we were the jerks.

So sorry. Next time we’ll be more mindful that our film watching won’t get in the way of your phone chatting.

I realize that a lot of this has been around for as long as there have been people. And I’m not blaming computers per se, but having come from an era where there weren’t computers in every household to an era where that is the norm, I’ve definitely seen a shift in human dynamics. It’s sad and unfortunate.

I don’t mean sad as in “pathetic” – I mean sad as in it hurts my heart.

Like I said, I’m grateful for computers. I can chat with friends and family daily and not have to rack up phone bills – though I do miss hearing their voices. I have vast amounts of more information about things I never knew I needed at my fingertips. The computer and its cousin the Internet are incredible tools that should be celebrated. But as with any tool, it can be abused. And it's our responsibility not to do that.

I just wish the dryness I sense at times wasn’t there, seeping into our culture like stale smoke from a slowly dying campfire. Granted, most emails I get from participants are warm and open and provide a quick and easy means for people to get the support they need – especially when they live overseas.

But it’s the other extreme that’s so frustrating. I’m usually able to let emails like that one go pretty easily. Sometimes I can’t. Sometimes they stick with me and it does become something personal and I feel challenged.

The funny thing is, it’s not really that I feel personally insulted, it’s more that the anger and hurt comes from what people like that are doing to themselves. Clearly that person is hurting deeply inside somewhere and has some serious issues that are hindering him from having the kind of life he wants. And he’s coming to (or trying to, at least) us for help. But he’s so lost in his own frustration he can’t see that it’s his own creation.

That was my hope, really, in why I replied to him. I was trying to be a mirror to him – as the term goes – to reflect back some of that so that he could possibly see it. But he’s not in a position in his life to accept the responsibility for his behavior; to him, swearing and cursing and rudeness are okay because he’s been personally affronted, and I’m the idiot because I’m not seeing it as acceptable.

I never will, and I’ll never understand why people will continue to think that such behavior is. What kind of world do we live in where we’re teaching people – allowing ourselves to be taught – that manners are unacceptable and stupid?

Right now, thinking about it I’m just shaking my head. My heart does go out to him, even though there’s a part of me that really wanted to write back and say, “Do you really think that it’s okay to treat someone with such rudeness? How would you like it if I treated you the same way?” There was a part of me that really wanted to write back and rip him a new one, as the phrase goes, using the same kind of tone – and words – he used with us.

But, of course, I can’t, because that’s counterproductive. I can’t change him. All I can do is provide the mirror for reflection; it’s up to him to look, and right now he’s in a place in his life where he’d rather be blind and blame me for his rude behavior.

And he’s welcome to do that.

Part of my frustration is how people like him can’t see that all their pain and suffering is of their own creation. You do get back what you give out, but so many people can’t see that. To him, it’s my company’s fault he’s insulted and so that means it’s not his problem he’s being rude. He’s not in a place in life to see that he’s choosing to react that way, and therefore creating much of the frustration he’s having in life.

And part of it is that somehow we’ve learned that it’s just us in the world. We see and speak to the other whatever-billion people that walk the face of the planet, but it’s like we forget they exist and that we’re part of a whole, not single units shuffling around, only responsible for ourselves, viewing life through self-centered filters. There are other people involved in our lives that we affect. But somehow many of us have forgotten this. I'm guilty of this on occasion; we all are. It's a human trait to do so.

It's when it becomes a habit -- the norm of our lives -- that it becomes unhealthy.

You may be writing your email or thoughts on a machine, but once you hit send – they land in the lap and emotions of someone whole and just as organic and real as you.

Life can be exasperating.

There’s always going to be things we dislike, people we find rude, things we find insulting and annoying. But it’s how we choose to react to those things that creates the amount of pain and aggravation we have in our life. I know I'm the one choosing to be annoyed by the email and the cell phone cows of the world.

We don’t have to like everything in life or pooh-pooh it; but we can have different reactions to those annoyances that make all the difference in the world. I took the opportunity to hold up a mirror to that man, but he simply chose not to see it.

Honestly, if he were to call and I got him on the phone and knew it was him, I’d treat him with the same kind of compassion as if he were completely anonymous. My role isn’t to force people into seeing what they’re doing; they have to do that for themselves. But they also have to be ready; that man wasn’t.

But to that man: I really hope you find what you’re looking for. I’d be willing to bet you’re actually a pretty decent guy who’s just having a truckload of frustrations in life that’s apparently creating a lot of pain and anger. I don’t know you, I don’t know who you are, but I’m sorry that you seem to have a life where that kind of behavior is seen as acceptable. I might have that same kind of attitude. I hope that someday you have a life that’s relatively free of the suffering and frustration that generated your email.

I’d even like to be the person that helps you learn how to have such a life.

Be willing to have a little mindfulness in your life; a frustrating life isn’t a license for rudeness and for acting like a jerk. Have a little sense of common courtesy and manners. The same kind you'd like to have given to you. The more mindful we become of our actions and reactions to what’s happening around and to us, the easier even the most trying times can be.

Even being on a "fabulous support inquisition program."

Voices From the Past -- She's Alive!

Yes, it’s been rather a long time since my last post…!

It’s not that I haven’t had anything to say (people who know me well know I always have lots to say!), I just haven’t had the inclination to do much writing for awhile. Given how busy we were at work all summer with the Oracle debacle with all of the snafus (it’s a great database, but the people who implemented it for us did a lousy job of listening to what we wanted and truly making sure everything was working before we went live.)

I was pretty much the only person doing email during the clean up time Spring and Summer; we had a pile of orders we couldn’t do anything with for a long time that was literally the size of a large city’s phonebook. It was a horrendous process to clean up all summer.

But because I was working on emails all day long, the last thing I wanted to do was to sit down in front of my computer at home or on break at work and…write…more….

It was somewhat akin to a professional housepainter trying to get up the energy to go home and paint his own house.

Or her house. Can’t be gender-specific these days!

But some really good things came out of the database transfer. We finally have a database that can truly handle what we need to have it do or online orders and other accounting and organizational factors that our old database simply couldn’t handle.

And we finally got an actual order department. Right now it’s only three people, but those three people are worth their weight in gold, because it means the coaching staff (of which I’m part) can focus more on being coaches, rather than data entry personnel / coaches.

I have to admit, though, that Oracle is of a strange design. Take address changes – in our old database, we went into one screen changed the address, saved it and – Bam! – we were done. Now we have to go into the customer’s main screen, sort through another two or three screens, change the address, save the address, switch the old address from primary to inactive, save, set the new address from inactive to primary, save, set the new address to either billing or shipping, save….

I’m not even going to begin attempting to tell you what we have to go through just to change an email address.

At one point I found myself thinking as I sorted through a task in Oracle just to release someone’s prepaid level, “This can’t be right. I’ve had to go through three different screens -- ?!” But when I grabbed Marc, my boss, to check with him about my procedure, he nodded. “Yep,” he said. “You’re doing it right.”

“It just seemed way more difficult than it needs to be,” I said.

“If you’re doing something in Oracle and it seems hard you’re doing it right,” Marc said. “If it seems easy – you’re not.”

All righty then, I thought. One more tidbit of Oracle Oddness to tuck away.

Eventually we’re going to have an interface designed that we can use that will function much like what you’d see on websites to place orders and change addresses so that we don’t have to slog through five times more screens than should be necessary.

But, as the joke goes around here, it’ll likely be when our grandchildren are working here.

Oh, I really, really hope not…! Cybergods, please hear our pitful cries and bless us with something soon!

We’re into our Fall sale now at work, and there was much toe curling and wincing as we went live for this one, despite the fact that everything had been running smoothly for two or three months. So far it’s been fine.

Thresholds are funny things. Before the debacle last Spring and Summer, I felt overwhelmed if I had 40 emails to do in a day. Now I look at that number and feel bored by it; I can have that many done by lunch most days. Mondays and Tuesdays I can easily do upwards of 80-100 – and that’s after parceling out 10-15 emails to the rest of the coaching staff.

I do enjoy the coaching aspect of my job. I really do. But as my Instant Message friends will tell you, I can get exasperated by the questions or inquiries that come in.

Some favorites:

“I can’t hear my silent affirmations.”

(Certain levels have the option for the Participants to record personalized affirmations subliminally…which means they’re, well, silent.)

“Where can I email you a question for coaching?”

(Sent to our coaching email address.)

“How much is your free Demo?”

(It's free at a cost of $52....)

Q: “I read about your CD that I can get that I can listen to in the car or as background sound for $24.95 plus shipping and handling. What’s it called and how can I order it?”
A: “That’s our CD Mind Stim. You can order it by phone, fax, email or online.”
Q/Reply: “Great! How much is it?”

“Do I have to have my CD in the player for it to have effect, or can I just listen with headphones?”

“I read in your instructions that it's okay to make a backup copy of my soundtrack. I'd like to enquire if this is indeed so.”

“What will be the cost of my free replacement?”

“I see that you’re open Monday – Friday. Are you available on weekends to take calls?”

“Could you please place the order for me I couldn’t place last night because your servers were down. Thanks!”

(That was the entirety of the email.)

“How long is the program? Are the two 30 minute tracks one hour?”

And so on….

Ratio-wise, those emails are thankfully in the minority. It’s just that, because I’m the email “gatekeeper”, I get most of them to answer. Most people I deal with I enjoy writing to and working with; they’re reaching out for help with true coaching issues, and I can’t get enough of that feeling that I know I’m really helping people. And I am patient with the people who write in with the examples above, but there are times I wish I could say what I was actually thinking; it’s especially rough at the end of a long day or week.

I know they’re asking a question that they feel is legitimate. Which is why I (mostly) don’t mind answering them…even if it’s done through occasionally-gritted teeth.

In my personal life, there’s not that much to say, really. Andrew moved out, and I turned his room back into an office. I was really, really glad to get my computer and filing cabinet out of my bedroom and have it be just a bedroom. Plus I turned a corner of the office into a little meditation area. I found a really cool screen at Fred Meyer (a big one-stop shopping store that has everything from groceries to lumber under one roof), set up a little altar with a candle and some mementos, found some really nice Oriental fabric to cover it, got portable CD player and found some nice things to hang on the wall in the corner so it wasn’t so barren.

I should take some pictures of my place for everyone to see; in fact, I need to put up some new pictures as it is.

I went to a Halloween party last weekend and had a wee bit more to drink than I planned. I was fine – I was fine – I was fine and then KERWHAMMO!!! – I wasn’t. I hadn’t planned on getting that drunk that evening; though the night as a whole was a lot of fun. I have pictures from that, too, I’ll put up when I can. (Hopefully before my grandchildren are reading this.)

I was amused, though. I got home around 4 a.m. and discovered upon rising at 11 am that I’d somehow managed to peel off my fake eyelashes (the theme was “Pimp and Ho”, though most people went as whatever they wanted to be; I’d dressed up as a Classy Ho – “We’re called escorts!” one girl merrily corrected me at the party) and my contacts and put them away tidily (and correctly, left where left should go, right in right), hung up my dress, put away my heels – but still pretty much had on all my makeup. There was that much.

Move over, Tammy Fae. I challange you to a makeup off!

....Or soemthing like that.

And the hairspray in my hair. Ugh….I think there’s a small hole in the ozone floating above my bathroom. Between the curling and the spraying and the curling and the styling of the hair – then applying the glamour makeup, it took me a good hour and a half to do that getup.

Next year I think I’m following Tuesday’s idea from the Addams Family movie, and just go in street clothes. You know – a homicidal maniac...they look like everyone else.

No muss, no fuss.

I spent the Sunday following the party vegging on my couch watching aimless television until 430, when I finally peeled myself off the cushions, brushed my teeth and went to the store for some food for that evening and the coming week.

Among the purchases was a new bottle of lemon juice; I pretty much finished off what I had making lemon water as I was just a wee bit dehydrated.

This week has been pretty slow. I’ve gotten myself on a higher-octane exercise regime which I’m enjoying (more cardio than usual and less lifting), but mid-week I had an accumulation of fatigue that left me just bagging the gym; it was likely a combination of the new routine, the weekend, and my body struggling to fend of the 82 strains of colds and flus that have been flapping around the office lately. But I’m looking forward to going tonight.

As a funny side note about the gym – I went to a different one for the first time in 4 and a half years. I’ve always gone to the one just up the street from me. But on Saturday I was forced to go elsewhere. After doing errands, I went the gym, but there was a rather ominous scene in front of the building. Parked at the entrance was a large, noisy tank of a truck with words like “sewage cleaning” and “water pumping services” printed on it.

Still hopeful, I parked and walked to the door, but got no further than the yellow caution tape and the handwritten sign on the door that said, “GYM CLOSED DUE TO BROKEN WATER MAIN PIPE AND FLOODING.”

Sigh.

I’d really been looking forward to going – and so I turned around and retraced my journey back to another Bally that was only a few blocks from where I’d just been running errands.

It was kind of a strange experience. It was clearly a different building with a different floorplan, but it was just similar enough with the layout of the equipment and the eerie thing of seeing people that looked almost identical to the ones from my normal gym – but weren’t from there – to make me feel like I’d stepped into a semi-alternate universe.

The Fitness Twilight Zone.

I half expected Rod Serling dressed in his rumpled suit and holding his trademark burning cigarette to zip around a corner and begin ordering me to do squats and crunches.

When I called my normal gym on Tuesday they were still cleaning up and said they likely would be for “another 2-3 days”. Which means I think I’m just going to go to the other one tonight as well as I did on Monday and Tuesday; I’d really rather not repeat Saturday by having to turn around and just come back right to where I’d just been.

And on that note, dear readers, I’ll sign off. I’m feeling somewhat stiff from not exercising for two days, and the thought of zoning out on the recumbent bike to pedal off the week is really appealing. I just need to make some new CDs to listen to as what I have I’m tired of and they’re getting scratched and jumpy.

Plus I keep having to turn up the volume…I can’t hear my silent affirmations, otherwise.