Here I sit

Photo: Belle, the ball

THE LULU CHRONICLES

I think I’m having the after-holiday-blues. Ever have them? And to add to it I woke up this morning with a crick in my shoulder. I feel 106 years old. I’m sitting up in my little office staring out the window overlooking the garage and pining away for LuLu. She’s just sitting there on her little kickstand waiting, wondering where I am. There’s snow on the ground and it’s in the teens degree wise. I’m afraid she’s going to have to wait and wonder a little while longer.

I know how to make myself feel better, but I’m having an inner struggle with myself. In the basement stands Hildegard, the sweatmaker. Across the room sits Belle, the ball. If I put on my sweats and go down there and start exercising, I’m sure I would be able to work this kink out of my shoulder stretching over Belle (my big exercise ball), plus going about three miles on Hildegard (she’s an elliptical machine for all those who haven’t met her) would get the endorphins going. In thirty minutes the kink would be gone and the blues chased away.

Yet, here I sit.

Why, oh why is it so easy to do the wrong things for yourself and so very hard to buck up and do the right things?

If being a lazy whiner would make one rich, I’d be planning a trip to Europe right now or some warm deserted island where I’d lay on the beach, listening to the gulls overhead and allowing the slow, drifting waves to lull me to sleep.

But I’m not, rich that is, so that must mean I’m a lazy whiner and there’s not one good thing about being a lazy whiner.

Here I sit.

Shoulder hurting.

Feeling sorry for myself.

LuLu in the garage.

I sit.

See, New Year resolutions are not worth the time it took to dream them up, unless…

I’m going now. My sweatpants await, as do Belle and her buddy.

Here I go. I’m getting up now…

Later,

deb