Many years ago, when going to aerobics classes was a mandatory part of life, I visited a workout club 3 times a week. It was run by an ex-Israeli military officer and his blonde model wife.
I would put GFoD in my calendar to note those classes. This acronym resulted from the feeling that if I didn’t Get Fit they were going to kill me. So Get Fit or Die was the phrase I chanted in my head as the instructor found new ways to make us feel pain.
I tell you this because work began on the house yesterday. GFoD returned with brutal force at a high volume in my thoughts. I’m sure, just as I was in the 80s, that this will be all worth it. ugh
We’re going upriver in an hour – this time I insisted that Stanley come with me. We have to get the supplies for repairing the roof and we’re changing the planking for the ceilings. I told him that, if he has strong preferences for the stuff he wants purchased, he can damn well come and make the choices himself.
My teenage friend will be left in charge while we’re gone. I’m sure he and the cats will eventually make peace. 🙂