Sometimes I can't help but believe that certain unexplainable forces work to prevent bad (good?) things from happening.
Perhaps heaven has it that if I were to go to the gym these few days, I might drop dead on the treadmill or something.
That's why lately, it seems to me that I've developed an extraordinary knack for doing wondrously bizarre and stupid things to keep myself away from the gym, despite my conscious intentions to do otherwise.
Like:
1. Spraining my ankle on the 1st day of my 4-day leave by chasing after a bus, thereby restricting myself to fat-friendly sedentry activities for 1 week. (See previous entry.)
2. Lugging everything from running shoes to hair clips to T-shirt from home to work and then to the gym, only to find, after signing into the gym and having 2 bucks deducted from my monthly pay, that I've left out my running shorts (!)
* rolls eyes towards heaven, and slaps forehead with right palm in TOTAL exasperation *
The only consolation I have regarding item 2 is that le cheapo aka moi refused to bow to fate that 2 bucks of her hard-earned money should go down the drain.
So instead of stomping home irritated but bemused, le cheapo decided to shower at the gym.
At least that saved some utility bills at home, notwithstanding the fact that all those flab and cellulite are still, at the end of the day, intact.
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