If you follow me on twitter you might know that 5 hours of my Saturday were spent on a MAJOR cleaning spree, the likes of which this house has NEVER seen in the three years that we've lived here. And perhaps in its 25 years since it was built.
I cleaned so much that I was actually sore this morning. I cleaned so much that my cuticles are a disaster. I cleaned so much that the top of my kitchen cabinets will NEVER mess with me again.
As for today, I planned to make some progress in my Diversification Plan by going for a nice bike ride with my friend V. It was a gorgeous day and it feels great to get out into the fresh air.
So I went out and got myself some new gym pants and asked Hubby to load my lovely new bicycle into the back of his truck. There I was happily sitting in the drivers seat of the red pickup, ready to trek out to V's new house and go for a ride by the river.
Everything was going fine. V may be an expert bicyclist, but she's very patient with my novice skills. Needless to say, it was a leisurely trip.
Until we got to the half-way point, when she asked if I wanted to actually get a work out at all. Um. What has the last 30 minutes been? But ok, sure, sounds good. The next thing she said was worrisome.
"Ok, so the hill is pretty big, so use your gears."
Well. That douchebag of a hill can lick my ASS because I managed to make it to the top. I almost died, and I still can't feel my legs, and I was about 10 minutes behind V but I still did it.
Don't congratulate me yet.
Remember how this was only the half-way point? Yeah. I had to ride all the way back.
That was ok. I made it through, and then V says:
"Oh, you mind if we just ride a bit further to find a better way back?"
And we were about 5 minutes from home when it happened.
It turns out that there was a 4.1 earthquake here yesterday afternoon, so I was obviously knocked off my bike by the sheer force of the tremors. For the record.
Also, my crotch/ass bones hurt like you would NEVER BELIEVE.