The World According to Ploy

January 9, 2009

I’m a Believer

Filed under: Exercise — by Ploy @ 1:20 pm

There is, without a doubt, a divine being (though it could be plural if you prefer the Greek or Egyptian versions) out there somewhere. Here’s what it took to convince me:

About five minutes ago, I was resigned to the prospect that this was going to be yet another one of those days, i.e. Ploy eats enough for two elephants and divides her 12 waking hours between the computer and the TV screens.

At one point before those five minutes, I’d actually told myself that I should perhaps do a few miles on the treadmill, which surely misses me after our few weeks of estrangement (what I am no stranger to right now, however, is the life-saving device developing around the area of my torso). But, as it is one of those days, laziness won over. (On a tangential note, perhaps I should put that in quotes rather than italics. What do you think?)

Sure, there was still a tiny part of my brain that was going “But you need the exercise!! Would you rather let it migrate to your tummy than to burn it to oblivion?”
The other part of my brain, the much stronger, much lazier part, took a baseball bat and whacked this complaining part: “Oh, shut it. She’s going to take a shower and lie around and watch more TV. Capisce?”

Good Brain felt rather upset, not to mention hurt, at the prospect of Body being treated thus. Another thing that Good Brain felt was that something, anything, should happen, to at least put Body into another motion other than sitting down. Body, however, was being commanded by Bad Brain to grab the towel and head for the bathroom.

From the corner of it’s (hers? I’m not sure. I’m speaking in third person about my own body. Please advise me if you know what pronoun is appropriate) eyes, Body thought she saw something…something black and foreign. Body took a better look.

(Actually, let’s switch back to first person. This whole third-person-yet-also-first-person-thing is taxing my brains.)

I let out a curse, or perhaps I didn’t. I don’t clearly recall; it was quite a shocking moment. There was a…….hmm, guess.

I ran three flights of stairs and found a can of Kincho tucked into a discreet corner somewhere near the kitchen doorway. Then I ran back up.

(6 flights of stairs. Good Brain was cheering, though I wouldn’t realize it until my mini-skirmish was over.)

I tiptoed (really!) into the bathroom and eyed my Target. Glad that it hadn’t moved an inch, I reached over and took out my toothbrush (I didn’t want the spray to contaminate it), all the while having my eye on The Target. After putting my toothbrush the safer corners of my room, I returned to the bathroom.

And sprayed. SPRAYED. SPRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYED.

I quickly shut the door. Seriously, we don’t want Target to fly. Target can be very scary when it takes flight.

I could hear Target scrambling against the door. I was disgusted, though I couldn’t wince or curse because all the while I was trying to hold my breath (as to not inhale Kincho).

The scrambling stopped. I decided to let the door open, a little.

Target frantically clambered out. Luckily, it wasn’t flying. The bottle of spray was still in my hand so, instinctively, I pressed. Fumes came out of the nozzle. Target’s HP (clearly I’ve been playing too much games) seemed to drop dramatically.

I grabbed a mop, which was luckily close by, and whacked and whacked and whacked it to, if not oblivion – then very close.

Target moved, then stilled. I finally heaved a breath. Kincho did smell pretty nice.

I kept my eyes on Target’s body for a few more seconds. Satisfied that it’s HP was zero at this point, I tossed away the mop, wiped my brow, then realized that it would be quite a while before I could shower.

As nice as the Kincho smelled, I didn’t want to be inhaling it while showering.

And how does this chemical-ridden, pest-infested story relate to my beliefs in divine forces? Well, I think that I was subconciously praying for exercise. Either that, or He took pity on me (and my body) and realized that I do need exercise after that entire bar of Lindt. Another explanation would be that He might have wanted to punish me for my laziness (is that one of the seven sins?) and hence sent Target to me.

Well, whatever the reason, I got my exercise today, and next time, for safety and sanity measures, I’ll just listen to Good Brain and go run on the treadmill.

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