Gretch-a-sketch (old)

Dim lights, soft music, sweaty palms, heart beating madly...

This would be a much better story if that was describing, say, a date I just got back from, but sadly it's not.
This is a tale of why I don't exercise.

It was a perfectly lovely Saturday, one of those late summer days where you manage to do plenty, and yet, nothing at all. I did some internet window shopping and took the time to do an extra-good job of shaving my legs. There was a fabulous book signing and homemade pancakes for dinner. I also started watching this little tv show called Wonderfalls. I'm only three episodes in, but it’s good. Bryan Fuller (the creator) is also the genius behind Pushing Daisies and I would be willing to do anything he asked me to do if he promises to keep making great television. Especially if he happened to need me for a make-out scene with Lee Pace. Go ahead. Ogle. I’ll wait.


Yum. But back to the story…my parents got home from a drive around 8:30. Who goes on drives with gas prices the way they are in Utah? We have the highest average in the nation, which is gross.

Then this occurred.

Dad: Are you planning on doing anything besides watching five hours of tv?

(I wasn’t.)

Me: Of course I am. Gosh!

(I sounded disturbingly like Napoleon Dynamite at that moment.)

Dad: If you say so...

(At which point I’m pretty sure he went upstairs to watch tv.)

After the episode wrapped up, I stretched and sighed. Grabbing my iPod and phone, I hollered up to the folks that I was going for a walk. So…I walked. Over to the high school, because I thought I’d check out the track. See, I’ve had these grand plans in my mind for a long time that I will eventually go running on a regular basis. This is hard for me because I’m a lousy runner, but I realize that I need to exercise more, especially if I’m going to be at a desk for forty hours a week. I’m sooooo not a morning person, so that’s really not an option. Getting back in shape would be a definite bonus. I figure it could also be a good way to blow off the steam of a) working all day and b) living at home.

It took me a semester or two to adjust to living on my own. However, once I went home during that first break from school, I positively couldn’t wait to get back. Apartment life suited me well. Now here I am, living at home for who knows how long. There are many perks, like a stocked pantry, air conditioning, and a laundry room that doesn’t cost $2 a load to use. At this exact moment, though, I’m missing my wireless internet, the cupboard of Pringles and kettle corn, and the ability to do whatever I darn well please on the weekends.

I made it down to the stadium in ten minutes, only to find it under super-tight security. The football field was re-done and I guess it’s still under construction, something like 18 months later. You can build movie theaters in that time, so you’d think it would be finished by now. The fact of the matter is that the new field won’t make our football team any better, so it’s all a tad Sisyphean.

With the prospect of running on the track ruled out, I began to consider other possibilities. (There aren’t many.) I walked around the side of the high school and right by the doors to the G Hall there’s this guy kneeling. Definitely not a high schooler and it looked like he was wearing all camo or something. It probably wasn’t a big deal, but it was dark and late and unusual. I freaked out, because not only am a young female with shapely legs, but I read something like one hundred murder mystery books when I was in middle school. As a result, I’m very paranoid and also suffer from the delusion that if I do find a dead body, there will be a complicated trail leading to a showdown with the murderer. Ostensibly, the handsome sheriff will arrive at the last minute and save me. (I also ALWAYS wonder if there will be a dead body in the shower before I get in.)

I quickened my pace, turned down my music, and took an unwise detour down the darker part of the street. I made it back safely, but on the walk home, I realized something. What if I’m not ready to live on my own yet? If anything had happened, how would I have defended myself or who would I have called? If I do ever get to fulfill my dream of living in New York City, I have to be better prepared (and probably a better runner). A person can’t let the inconsequential things freak them out, but one must be cautious. I have some growing to do yet.

I guess even though it’s been an adjustment for my whole family to have me at home, it’s nice to have a dependable roof over my head. Besides, there are people who love me here and pancakes for dinner on a Saturday night.