Stumped

I knew this would happen.  I just knew it.  As soon I make the commitment to exercise regularly (my writing skills - please, did you think I meant something aerobic?  Well, I should do that too), I knew I'd get brain freeze.  Similar to ass freeze when I make the, typically too loud decision to start going to the gym.  My ass just gets stuck in the chair.  Typically writing.  Come to think of it, since I've made the commitment to write regularly I've been busying myself with all sorts of physical activity. Wait...what?

Somehow my wires are completely crossed.  Commit to sweat, I get words.  Commit to paragraphs, I get achy muscles.  Not that either one is a bad thing - but somehow I have to flip the switch. Like that same dagnabbit switch that turns on about 10PM, no matter how flipping tired I during the day.  The one that stays on for hours...as if my day has just begun.  Or what I think a day just beginning is supposed to feel like, per everyone else's relentless ongoing commentary about being so freaking chipper after dawn, after their alone time before the rest of the world wakes up.  Honey, that's when I'm typically turning in.  But I digress.

I think I have to blow up that silly ball.  Where is she going with this, you may wonder.  Stay with me.  A while back (longer than I care to remember) I went out and bought myself one of those fitness balls - those big ones that you can bounce on.  I realized how long I do sit in this desk chair, whether I'm doing something for one of my various volunteer gigs, one of my jobs, or just surfing the social media landscape, and thought it better if I at least did it moving.  I'm not paying to reorient the office into a standing desk scenario, so this seemed like the next best thing.

It's still in the box.  I'm not sure where the box is.  I see it in my mind's eye.  I vaguely recall its last location, but then it all goes blurry.  As soon as I buy a new one it will appear, of course.

But maybe that's just it, I have to do both simultaneously.  Then I'll have no excuses, right?  Still won't help my kitchen get clean, but at least I'll be doing good for my body and my soul.  And maybe...I'll get something moving...the train out of the station, the ship out of the port, the kids out of the schoolyard (oh, wait, that's not good - they should stay, right?)...bear with me.  The engines are revving...