Right. So I’ve been know to smirk about my gym habits.
Joke’s on me poppets. I’m suffering from gym-fatigue. Can’t, for love nor money, drag me lovely derriere out of the snake pit in the mornings anymore. Impossiblé! And I’m bitter. Because it’s the perfect time of year for the gym. All the hibernation means less queues and less fighting for space with the wobbling masses.
But nooooo….instead, I’m snoozing that snooze button. Rolling over for another stab at nod. And having odd, rage fuelled dreams filled with dragons and traffic jams. I’m reading books into the wee hours and getting up in the dark to stare at the trees.
And god forbid another suggests going to the sweat fest in the evenings. Pah! That would entail having energy at the end of the day. Who’s got that? All I have left at the end of the day is enough juice to get the cork outta the bottle. Yum.
Ag. Probably my usual mid-year malaise.
Come to think of it, I can think of better ways to get my heart rate up.