We have a new item which squeezed its way into our office today.
After two weeks of tirelessly skimming the Craigslist ads, I finally replaced my old treadmill with an even older one. Yes, it sounds crazy, but I only plan to use it one day per week, so I didn’t want to put much money into it.
You cannot imagine how many castoff treadmills there are floating around in the Los Angeles area. So many that your eyes cross with fatigue when reading through the millions of ads.
I went out to a nondescript industrial area the other day with MFP to look at an old commercial-grade one, and let me tell you, it wasn’t easy getting to that point even. The lady was adamant about what time she could meet me because she had to get the warehouse guy to get her keys, etc. Was she playing hard to get, I wondered.
But I ran eventually ran on it, loved it save a strange squeaky noise; therefore, I offered her half price because I didn’t know how long it would really last. Plus I would have to use the saved money to buy a noise machine to cover up the sound so that the boys would sleep through my running each morning.
She said she would have to check with her fiancé who was currently overseas. I emailed her the next day, she emailed me back a few days later. She said he wanted her to get it serviced and then I could have it for full price. Firm. I said okay. I never heard from her again. End of story.
So I told MFP that her fiancé must have been angry about my low-ball offer and that a fight must have ensued, after which they had finally broken up. So now she cannot bare to communicate with me because I broke up her marriage before she ever had a chance to walk down the aisle. Over a treadmill.
He said I need to go write a book and come up with more creative stories like that one.
Anyway, I moved on and found the above mill, purchased off of a guy who said he picked up a strange disease when he was down in Arizona and sat in a chair for two years staring out the window. He is now recovered, he said, but he still won’t be able to use his treadmill anymore. Plus, he lost his job and needed some cash. So we bought it because we felt bad for him. I sprayed that treadmill down like a cleaning lady with OCD when we got home. Because of the strange disease story, you know?
As were unloading it, Brian came over to say hi.
I don’t think he understands about treadmills and how humans need to run like hamsters in their houses in the early morning hours so that they can have extra time in their days for things like work and doing laundry. (Believe me it is not my first choice, but I have been instructed by MFP to write a book so that I stop making up stories about strangers all the time.)
See, pets don’t understand our strange habits. A good walk in the park is enough to make them lick their lips.
Believe me, sometimes I wonder myself about the way we organize our lives, so that we move further and further away from the life nature intended.
And I wonder why I signed up to run the Boston Marathon, because I have encountered this new thing called “sleepy eye” that happens every night around 6 p.m. I’ll be in the bathroom washing my hands and I’ll look up and see myself and jump at the sight of my own visage. It’s this phenomenon where my eyes want to close and be done with the day even though my brain is urging them to stay open for just a few hours more.
I took today off because I was determined to make it through this day without the assistance of a pair of toothpicks.
But I have to say, I am thankful that I didn’t go down to Arizona and pick up a strange disease. Because staring out a window for two years sounds much much worse than my marathon-training sleepy-eye syndrome.
There is always that.