Estimated reading time: 2 minutes
The local weatherman is flying horizontally through a storm while holding a street lamp with one hand. The other hand is holding an upended umbrella.
Today we expected rain, and the weatherman nailed it. He said 9:00 am, and it started at 9:01—basically wizard-level accuracy. Of course, that’s the exact moment we were headed out for our bi-weekly dose of pain, and the sky decided to join in.
Mary went into the mouth of the dragon, marching right into Peak Performance and yelling, “Who wants a piece of me?” All the trainers ran to the back of the room, cowering in sheer fright, with some of the men shedding some tears.
It’s a cheerful environment, except for the occasional screams and the rattle of chains.
I dragged myself inside, but within a few minutes, I headed home; I was sick to my stomach. Mary stayed and endured the punishment provided by her Peak Performance Trainer. When I got home, only a 4.5-minute drive, I crashed and set the alarm for 40 minutes. I began to feel a lot better when I arrived to get Mary. Whatever I had went away!
We did some shopping at the market because our milk supply was low and we needed other necessities, like puff pastry!
It was raining like the sky had a personal grudge as we pulled in, so I sprinted out to do a “quick” yard check before unloading groceries—aka a 12-second soaking that left me looking like I’d gone through a car wash fully clothed.
Everything was wet, and the clouds seemed to be enjoying the mess they were making on the ground!
After returning inside and shaking like a wet doggie, I went to work! First, a small lunch for m’lady, then dessert: cherry strudel.
Only 500 calories for the entire thing!
For the rest of the day, we alternated between reading and watching TV. We hit the sack at midnight after four hours of Suits.
We enjoy the rain as it gives us reason to work around the house!
