Wednesday was one of those days when nothing works, nothing at all. I spent the day at my desk feeling cranky and headachey (read: normal day) but happily looking forward to my riding lesson that night. Thunderstorms were in the forecast but whatever, I want to ride that horse. At 5pm I suited up: lightweight horse-snot-proof shirt, breeches, tall boots that require extra equipment to get on and off, the whole thing. I was ready to go. I got in the car and called my instructor to see what the weather was like out there. She called the barn and called me back, "It looks like the storms are rolling in!" We rescheduled because horses and thunder do not mix. Also not mixing: me being the tallest thing in the field when the lightening strikes.
I was already halfway to the gym and had my gym bag in the back seat, so I decided to go work out even though it was probably the last thing I was in the mood for. I got there and parked and then realized, damn, I'm dressed like a jackass. I can NOT walk in there like I'm about to ride in the Kentucky Derby. Plus, my boots kind of smell. I finally decide to split the difference and at least take off the boots, but the breeches I couldn't do anything about. I stood next to my car with my boot jack and started to pry those puppies off and some guy walked by, looked at me and snickered. Dude almost got a boot jack in the head but lucky for him I needed it to get my other boot off.
So, I march into the gym wearing leather kneepatch breeches and sneakers. White hot.
Normally I use the gym on campus during the week because the other one I belong to is way too crowded during the week. And yeah, it was way freaking crowded on Wednesday night too. I'm used to being there on Saturday morning when there are the same three dudes in the weight room instead of scores of douchebags with truly unfortunate tattoos.
Every piece of equipment was being used. Every square inch of mirror was being used. Everywhere I wanted to be was full of someone else's bullshit. There was also lot of that thing where the pert blonde girl follows a trainer around and he makes her do tricep work with 3lb barbie weights. It was terrible and didn't help my mood.
I squeeze my way into the weight room and found a narrow space free of douchebag and started to do my bar warmup. Then I felt it. The Gaze of Ick. I seriously felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up and whipped my head around to find the source. There he was, that SUPER creepy dude who looks like a chinless turtle and wears his sunglasses inside. He looks exactly like he'd kidnap you and keep you in a box in his basement. It put the lotion on its skin or else it gets the hose again! Now he was looking at me and it skeeved me out so bad I decided that maybe I'd just go...do anything else somewhere he was not.
I tried. I tried to finish my workout but it was all just too much and I was TIRED. Weary. Skeeved. I went home and found Kenny staring perplexed at a wall bike rack he'd bought that didn't actually work at all for our full-suspension frame bikes. He tried, though.
"Well, we can hang your bike on the top part if we take off the front tire and mine can just rest underneath."
"Um, so what you're saying is that it's $70 worth of FAIL."
PS. It didn't actually ever rain.