Urgh, am frantic. Tomorrow is moving day, and thank goodness for it. Pretentious Condo Digs is just getting ridiculous.

Yesterday, sick of sitting amongst my half-packed hovel, I woke up early, put on my nikes, did some extensive stretching and headed to the gym for a nice relaxing run.

I got there, dodging landscapers all the way, only to find that the gym is now locked until 10am each morning. Thus, if you’d like to workout at said facility, you may only do so between the unreasonable hours of 10-5.

Nobody goes to the gym between 10 and 5. Nobody.

I’m at work from 10-5, and anyone who isn’t at work is likely busy watching soap operas and eating bon bons. Who really wants to break out the old sweat suit when General Hospital is on? (My father-in-law is a rabid GH fan, and you’d think that show could walk on water, he likes it so much.)

Anywho, to make the running sitch worse, as I’m standing at the doors to the gym looking angry, dejected and sweaty, (humidity was through the roof at 7 am!), who rolls up but Community Enforcement. The faux cop gave me a little glare and waited for me to skulk off before continuing to do laps around the complex.

After lap two he pulled off to the side of the road to ponder if the addition of a handlebar mustache and a pair of dark-tinted pedophiles (shades) would make him look more intimidating. Then, because he wants to be a real cop, he headed to Dunkin Donuts to bore the morning shift girls with stories of staring down runners, kids on bikes, and the old man from 4C who rolls around the complex in his wheelchair.

As much as the Pretentious Condo Digs are downhill, man I hate moving. Yesterday, during crisis packing, I found myself humming Frank Sinatra songs, wearing a ballroom-style skirt and a shirt that said “I *heart* nerds”. On my head, a single shining tiara read “Happy F*ing New Year”.

Yeah happy f*ing new year. Happy f*ing moving day.

Posted in Mixed Bag