Done

So So Done

We had a dryer fire today. It is only by the grace of God the house didn't burn down. I ran a CD down to my mom's house and neglected to turn off the dryer before I left the house. Because our dyer is most likely older than I am, we tend to be careful about that. When I returned, the house had a distinct burn-y air about it. Managed to put the fire out with no damage to anything but the dryer, but now we have no dryer. It's much less fun to sneer at laundry when you are trying to air dry clothes for five people on wet April days. I know you are all breathlessly absorbed in the small details of my life, but this little diversion does have a point: My running stuff was in the washer.

Lonely Teardrops

I don't think I actually cried about it. It's not like I am super excited to run. After the saga of the washing machine two months ago I really, really don't want to think about how we are going to replace the dryer. Women do not go jogging, running or otherwise seriously exercising without adequate Suppression, and now I could look forward to beginning damp and clammy. I thought really hard about the chocolate ice cream in the freezer (which I did not buy) and called a friend instead. This is the same friend who graciously let me use her washer during the Great Washer Rebuilt of 2012. To her immense credit she didn't even hint that she was apprehensive that I might grovel to use her dryer.

Keeping Clam(my)

I used my hairdryer to get the bra to the level where I wasn't shuddering to have it on my body. Dear Husband came home and suited up, we set off down the road. Three steps into the 20 minutes run time I wanted to stop. I was just done. Music was not helping, not even the big guns. Dear Husband was so far down the road I couldn't objectify him with my eyes. I resented it. I resented his faster pace. I resented that I was out on this stupid road, in stupid drizzle, with stupid damp underwear. If I could have tripped him I would have. I was not a nice person at all.

I didn't indulge in my usual inward conversation, I just seethed angrily all the way down the road. I'd drop out of the jog and walk 5 steps then jog some more. We reached the half way point and turned around and I just wanted to kick something and scream but I had save it all up for the stupid trip back. About 3/4 of the way through the run I hit a rhythm and realized that I didn't have enough energy to run and be angry at the same time. So I just ran. I can't say I am happy, but I got through it.

Drip Dry

In the words of Scarlett O'Hara: "I can't think about that right now. I think about that tomorrow."