Updates and a friendly warning

First, the warning, which may superficially look like running away with my tail between my legs. But it’s not. Please don’t be confused. If in doubt, consult a trained professional.

The warning is that June’s working review may not be on time. I say “may” because I am not even willing to commit to failing at this point. I’m running behind my (admittedly padded) schedule for HoC and the working review will, frankly, be the first thing to fall by the wayside.

I’m suffering from an extreme bout of “writing? sure, just a min–oh, shiny!” which has sort of slowed the pace at which I complete scenes to something like one scene every five years. And I’m still committed to finishing both parts of the finale before the first one goes up. Which means I tend to refuse to work on anything else, even when that means I work on nothing.

Meanwhile, the treadmill search was successful, insofar as I obtained a large box that promised to contain a treadmill. This was something of an overstatement of the facts. What it contained was the main body of a treadmill, weighing approximately sixteen TONS, assorted metal pipes and rods, and a vacuum-sealed sheet of more bolts, washers and screws than you can shake a hex wrench at. These had to be put together. Which hey, I expected. I’ve put together my share of Ikea furniture.

About three hours later, sweating in an overheating house and crouched on the floor while trying to lever up the treadmill body long enough to put a spacer between it and the framework, while simultaneously jamming a bolt through all three–framework, spacer, and body–without being able to see the hole in any one, I realized that treadmills are only meant to be assembled by teams of six. They should, for optimal results, pack heavy weather gear, oxygen tanks, and a first aid kit. Sherpas optional.

However! Upon completing the assembly (and taking a brief vacation to recover my wits and feeling in my hands), I tried it out.

Treadmills are amazing. Why didn’t anyone tell me?! While I will not go so far as to call using it “fun,” it is settled firmly in the more ambiguous category of “enjoyable.” I actually woke up early this morning and thought, hey, I can go use the treadmill again, joy! My life as reached a deeply weird and pathetic level. On the plus side, this level also promises to be healthier.

Published by Joyce Sully

Joyce Sully believes in magic and dragons and ghosts, but is not convinced her next-door neighbors are real. So she writes stories. Really, what else could she do?