I hate you Dolph

Last night I had a dream, Pat and I were driving along the crest of a mountain. This is the great divide, he told me and I looked ahead and saw the peak and the road splitting the green like a grey spine. It was such a deep gash – an ax through the head of the world, nothing was above us but sky. As we approached the top, he took the curve too quickly and I felt the car ascend into the air, whip violently, my entire body clenched and terrified and screaming DON’T YOU EVER DO THAT AGAIN like it matter, because we were going off the side. My breath was held inside me so tightly as if it would brace me for the impact. But the impact never came. As quickly as we flew off the side, some magnetic force pulled us back to the road. And Pat was smiling and calm like he’d known all along we were on a ride.

This week I’ve worked about 7 hours of overtime and then been going to the gym immediately when I get home and last night Pat rescheduled our personal training session which is only 25 minutes, but imagine 25 minutes of being a non-stop punching bag for the Dolph Lundgren. Once we rolled ourselves out of there, I went to the store because we had nothing to eat and I don’t think we ate dinner until 10:15. We watched something on netflix, I can’t even remember – oh some reality TV cop show – and then we rolled ourselves to bed and this morning when I woke up my entire body was paralyzed. Why does being healthy hurt so much? No wonder obesity is rising – working out sucks! What kind of Gods create a body that is only healthy when it’s hurting? Stupid. If I could do it all over, drinking beer and eating cheese would be the only way we could survive.

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