Stupid headphones


It’s hard living with an obsessive.

Just ask Scott.

I am a person who MUST have a routine. Everything is timed or everything falls off the rails.

Take today. It is one of four days that Scott  joins me for a foray to the gymnasty where he engages in 50 lengths of swimming while I watch Will and Grace on the treadmill. Today, everything fell apart.

Usually, I get up and have some tea and a snack then drive Scott to work. Today, we had to change up the routine to walk the dogs. The little wimps hate walking in bad weather so we usually let them do their busines in the backyard in the winter. Once the snow and salt is off the roads, we take them for a jaunt around the park.

So that requires changing my routine from the past two months.

We walked the dogs, then had to wait for them to stop panting so we could feed them.

Meanwhile, Scott got to work editing a video for our pals at the Carleton University music department, something Scott does as a volunteer every year.

Usually, if we don’t head right out the door for the gym, I write a blog.

But I can’t write a block when there is opera singing going on.

So I read the paper and had a banana.

By the time Scott was ready to go, it was 10 o’clock.

Too late for the gym. At 10 o’clock, I come home for breakfast.

So Miss Crankypanks here says, “No gym today; it’s too late.”

After much whining, Scott convinced me to get dressed and psyche myself for the gym, which I hate, absolutely hate after 10 o’clock because there are too many people there. Indeed, the women’s gym was packed and the only treadmills available had OUT OF ORDER signs, which have been there for a month. So I headed to the co-ed gym and there were about two dozen people running their little hearts out.

Oh well.

I can manage, I thought.

I got on the tread, and reached into my water bottle pocket for my $60 Apple headphones and they were gone!

That meant no Will and Grace, and no treadmill because I cannot stand the tread without entertainment. I despise it.

I headed for one of those treads with a workout routine already programmed into it, but realized I picked the wrong kind; I found myself on a manual treadmill which was worse.

At the gym, everyone watches you, judges you. So you have to spend at least 15 minutes on a piece of equipment, lest you are condemned as a fat loser by the people in back of  you. So I endured this ridiculous piece of equipment — something they called environmentally friendly, something I call cheap.

So I got off, and looked once again, in panic, for the headphones, which still weren’t there.

I got on the rowing machine and rowed and rowed and rowed, remembering the couple years I used to row for Carleton University — badly. But at least the rowing machine had some action going on. You could actually play a Pacman like fish game — the faster you rowed, the more fish you ate, the slower you rowed, the more fish who ate you.

This lasted 15 minutes and I headed for the ellipictal which I am afraid of. In fact, I am afraid of anything with moving feet, especially escalators, which I avoid. So the elliptical sent me into a panic attack, which I fought off.

It wasn’t pretty inside my adrenals, I can tell  you that.

I think I peed myself a little.

Anyway, I got through this wonky workout still upset about a) the fact my routine was interrupted b) opera c) headphones d) lots of people e) having to fight my way through the human car wash which is the change room.

Scott was still doing weights, so I asked the girl behind the desk if she had seen any $60 Apple headphones, and she shook her head sadly.

I went to the car to sulk.

I had a drink of water and realized that the water bottle sack had two zippers.

I opened the second one.

There were my headphones.

I perked up.

The morning wasn’t wasted after all.

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