In Praise of Folly

Recently my doctor told me I really had to make an effort to get to the gym. The battery of tests I had taken began to suggest some future problems if I didn’t start to take care of myself. So, with the fear of a supreme being in my veins, I’ve taken to restructuring my weekly schedule so I can fit in 4 visits to the gym per week. I’ve been very proud of myself since I’ve been following this for a few weeks now. Just when I should be super proud of myself, my rotten luck surfaces.

Last night in a rush to watch ’30 Rock’ I prepared a bag with my work clothes very quickly. This morning I headed out with my gym clothes on and work clothes bag in tow. I was sitting on the train content with my stick-to-itiveness when I realized that I didn’t pack a bra or underwear to change into. GASP!!! From pure calm, my brains gears raced to figure out Plan B. I could stop at Chambers street and get some items from a store that opens at 7:30. Yes, that’s what I would do. And then I would head to the gym as planned and just cut my time by 15 minutes, which I’d make up later in the week.

I got off the train at Chambers street as planned and was caught in a wave of people getting to work which made my usual insanely fast walking pace come to a semi halt as I had to wait for spaces to weave in and out of to get to my destination. When I finally got to the store, the holiday tourist crowd was blocking the entrance way and despite my yelling “EXCUSE ME” in the few languages I know…No one moved. But I pushed through them anyway.

When I got to the second floor and found my bra size and underwear, I had to wait on an eternally long line to pay. Of course by the time I got all this done and got to the gym, it was much later than I had expected. So, at least I got to shower at the gym!

When I told this story to a couple of my pals, they laughed. I probably should be offended but this is typical glimpse at how things happen in my life.