If I had a dollar for every f-bomb dropped on me by 2pm, my retirement would look pretty darn good right now.
And its never who you'd think. For the most part, my teenagers are good about it,...its the "older" crowd who needs to take a timeout with the Dial bar in the pie-hole. Don't let them fool you. Saturday afternoon they're running around with the grandkids cuddling and following that crazy nomad Dora, and come Monday morning they're unloading four letter words like a potty-mouth sniper.
It makes me laugh.
I love my job.
Since returning from NY its been a hectic week and the pile of laundry on my floor is basically taking over as I mull in my own filth. And digging for matching socks at 4am is a recipe for an anxiety attack waiting to happen. White with gold seam,...white with pink seam,...white with white seam,...black,..."Oh. My. God. Why do you all non-matching cotton horribles hate me?!"....then I immediately find a match and walk in shame to the closet slowly regaining sanity...
Welcome to my morning.
Its wonderful.
I swear.
Its been a fairly normal week at the gym, and yes I use that term loosely because there is never a dull moment with all my peeps. Laughter is underrated and I can honestly say there is never a shortage for me from 6am-7pm. And yes, sometimes I laugh at you, not with you. When someone says otherwise they are generally lying. Shocking, I know.
On a more serious note though, I had a conversation with one of my ladies today that truly spoke volumes to me about where many people are (especially women), when they step foot into the gym. The mental battle they often face to leave everything at the door and focus on themselves for one workout is practically a spandex-laden war zone. I'll delve into this more in my next post....
Right now it is nearly past my bedtime and I am struggling to keep my eyes open, much less form coherent sentences.
Geez....more to come...night folks...
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