This morning I was browsing through "CitySports NW" (I know, I know. I am rapidly becoming ridiculous about this jock thing - er - more ridiculous) and the editor's opening comments went something like this...
"If you found out that you were about to die, how would you spend your last days? If a meteor was heading toward the earth, what plans would you make for the last few days of your workout schedule?"
I am not kidding. That is what the magazine said.
Okay, like I even need to say this. It's not like you're wondering where I stand on this issue, BUT...
If I ever find out the earth is doomed, I can promise you my last few days will be not be spent running on the treadmill and lifting weights. You will find me having sex and going to CC Slaughters (or having sex AT CC Slaughters). You will not find me at the gym, and I will not be planning my final workouts. Who would do such a thing? If there are really people like that in the world, I don't want to know about them. Certainly that is not the type of person who would read Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven, so I know I'm preaching to the choir here.
If a meteor was on the way, would some people be rushing to the mailbox to make sure their credit card payment reached American Express before The End? I mean, seriously, at that point there will be no point picking up your dry cleaning or making sure the library books get returned. Come to think of it, I haven't made time for those two chores in over a year. I've owed the library six dollars in fines since 2004, and I'm sure the clothes I left at the dry cleaner last August are probably in a bin at a Goodwill store somewhere. The point is, given a warning about impending fiery destruction, I'm probably not going to be scheduling a final haircut.
But, don't worry, I will for sure blog one more time.