August 31st, 2007

If they were going to abbreviate something, why TGIF?

Isn’t it nice enough to spell out in full? Especially on a day when one has the leisure time to do so.

Mmm, a three-day weekend, haven’t had one of *those* in a while. No, that’s a lie, I had three days off in July, when I went to Ottawa. But travelling, while awesome, is not *relaxing.* This afternoon when I got home, I took a *nap.* I might take another one before bed tonight. We’ll see (there’s good comedy sketch floating around somewhere, about Ronald Regan, featuring a bedtime nap–think it’s on YouTube?)

Actually, tonight after I have digested dinner I’ll probably go the gym. I meant to go for a run in the glorious cool sunshine, but the nap and the dinner made it later, and the long shadows in the ravine at dusk freak me out. Plus the new gym is still new enough to feel fun. For one thing, it’s right around the corner, so I can go late in the evening, go spontaneously, not shower or change after, just lunge home. Gosh, this is boring.

Ok, the really cool thing about the gym is that they have televisions there, and if you bring your own headset you can plug yourself in and choose from 5 or 6 scintillating cable shows.

Now we know that Casa Rose-coloured is tv-free since the unfortunate incident that I actually didn’t witness but that broke my tv somewhere in 2004. And as for cable, it has never been a presence in my life. I grew up in a so-called dead zone (note: not a metaphor) where none of the cable companies are willing to run service. That’s right, “willing”. We used to think that they weren’t *able* for some reason, but it turns out that the population densitiy is just too low to make the initial investment in infrastructure worthwhile. It’s very annoying, but it probably made for a purer childhood.

I’ve almost never, for example, seen music videos. Not even at friends’ houses, as most friends who were close enough to share appliances also lived in the dead zone. We really thought that half an hour of *Video Hits* Sunday afternoons on CBC was as good as it got.

As I got older, I realized how wrong we were–at parties, in hotel rooms, other people’s houses, university residence. And of course, my folks did some sort of satellite fandango the year I moved out and got *everything*. The year I moved out, figures. But it’s hard to make it a priority, you know? So the gym is really my first chance to watch whatever I want (well, Much and some other version of Much) for as long as I want. Which as it turns out, is most of my cardio, which is bad news indeed for the *New Yorker* (hmm, note to self: *New Yorker* not person, cannot be offended nor miss you.)

Oh, and did I mention I go to a “women’s gym” where everyone’s fiftyish and monied and “concentrating” (so why did I choose it? It was the cheapest, strangely.) The only people young and even vaguely hip are the staff, who I guess set the channels. So when the permanent wave ladies stroll past me as I’m chuckling away at My Chemical Romance and those cheerleaders in gasmasks (brilliant–what’s that song called?) it makes me feel vaguely young and hip, too.

Also I’m getting lots of cardio in, which is good.

Also it took me nearly two hours to get from work to the doctor’s office today (it was a half day). BIRT this is not a TTC rant way-station. Hence, perhaps, the need for the nap.

I took a shuttle on the shock wave

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So Much Love by Rebecca Rosenblum

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