Last night I had a massage appointment at 8:30. (I KNOW – if you’ve been reading closely, that makes THREE massages in THREE weeks. Sheer awesomeness as I deplete my Flex Spending Account.)
Anyway, I started the day with sunrise yoga and was planning to cap the day off by hitting the pool for a half hour workout of kick laps before my massage.
I drove there.
I parked.
I changed.
And because the DC pools insist on everyone showering before entering the pool, I went to the showers (nevermind that I had taken one at home about three hours prior). But here’s the thing: the shower was FREEZING.
I tried every available shower and they were all blowing out water that was about two degrees away from making an icicle.
So you know what I did? I quoted my mom with a big, “Well, piss on this!” and walked back to my locker and got dressed.
I can tolerate jumping into cold water where my entire body is submerged at once, but walking into a misty shower spray of ice? No thank you.
I’m pretty sure the other women in the locker room thought I was crazy because half of them had just seen me get undressed, only to return and get back into my street clothes without swimming. Maybe – in continuing the theme of the week – they thought I was homeless.
Whatever. As I walked out, I noticed that there was a suggestion box at the front desk. I stopped and scribbled on a piece of paper, “Warm showers, ever hear of them?”
That was nicer than my first attempt, which was simply, “Heat your f*cking showers.” But I tossed that out because I wasn’t sure who would be reading the suggestions.
So I guess it wasn’t all bad – at least I’m getting a jump start on practicing my new year’s resolution of “self-restraint.”
pithypants 
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