The Tale Of The Exercise Pants

I am pretty faithful to exercise five days a week. I do it first thing in the morning, before I've even had my cup of coffee. I just know the longer I go into my day, the less likely I am to actually get moving. Plus, that first cup of coffee is like a carrot dangling on a string: I'd do anything to get to it!

This week has been spring break, and I took off work to be with the kids. So already I am in holiday sleeping in mind set. That doesn't really jive with The Pooper (my daughter's puppy) but I'm still thinking of rest and relaxation.

Still, exercised Monday morning. Walked miles and miles in Seattle on Tuesday. Wednesday...well I just didn't feel like it. I still have more days in the week to go, to make up my five day goal. I don't feel bad. I'll do it the next day. But on Thursday I can't find my pants.

I have two pairs of black comfy exercise pants. I love them dearly. One because it has pockets and one because it is so comfy. My husband hates them and refers to them as my pirate pants, but you know what? I love the pants so much I've willingly embraced that name and refer to them as my pirate pants.

So not finding my pants on Thursday is a big deal. I need them to exercise! I find them in the laundry and remember, duh, just the day before when I'd skipped my workout, I thought it would be the perfect day to wash my pants. Unfortunately, I forgot. Okay, I can walk the dogs. I don't need my lovely pirate pants to walk the dogs.

It is pouring down rain. Okay. Not going to walk the dogs. I will just have that cup of coffee and wash my pants. Sure, I'll miss working out in the morning, but there is a chance (a slim one) that I will do it in the evening.

Evening rolls around I realize I'd carried my load of dark clothes out to the laundry room, and that was as far as it got. Well, I probably wasn't going to exercise anyway. I really wanted to reheat some coffee, grab a couple of unfortunate fortune cookies and watch reruns of Bones with my son. But I will put those clothes in the wash, and then the dryer while I'd doing that.

Forward to this wet Saturday morning. I'm up at 6:20 with a The Pooper, who as her nick-name implies, has pooped. And apparently rolled in it. She needs a bath ASAP. I bathe her, get my coffee going, and go to get my pants out of the dryer.

Oh, wait. That's right. I was too busy reading a book my son's girlfriend loaned to my daughter and both girls raved about, to remember the wet clothes in the dryer.

By now, I've had to wash a poop puppy, at 6:30 on a Saturday morning, and I can smell my coffee perking and it smells so good....

What's a girl to do? Sit down and wait for the coffee to finish and blog about why her exercise pants are wet in the wash and that means she can't possibly exercise today either.

Did I mention how wet it is outside? Torrential!