Like so many other people, I started working out again this week.  Not because it was a resolution, but because with the chaos of the move and then the holidays, there just wasn’t time.  Or room.

I prefer to work out in the privacy of my own home.  At one point in my life I was a gym person, but it was one specific set of circumstances that included a fantastic, cheap, and usually not crowded gym close to both home and work.

Then I moved and joined another gym.  This did NOT work out but if I tell the whole story I might get stabby and I’m in a pretty good mood right now and I’d prefer not to ruin that.

But with time (and marriage) I acquired a decent enough “home gym” for my purpose.  An elliptical, a treadmill, some girly 5 pound weights and a TV/DVD to do my  girly weight-lifting and abs workouts.

See, this is my “home gym” otherwise known as the spare room.

It’s not big – there’s a tiny floor space, and the machines are practically on top of each other, but it works.  And it’s free.

Anyway, even though we’ve been here in the new place since the end of October, it took us until last weekend to get it to look like it does in the picture.

Monday when I finally dragged my ass in there eagerly laced up my running shoes to get on the treadmill, I encountered my first problem.  My thingy wasn’t charged.  Don’t ask me to describe the thingy.  I just know it holds my playlists and like, some other stuff.

Since I also hate headphones on me when I’m working out, Jerrad has set up some elaborate thing where I plug it into the TV so the sound is better.  That whole set-up was also not working.

Fortunately Jerrad was home from work that day, and although it was a pain in the ass that required finding an extension cord and various electronic things, he got it to work.

Then when I got on the treadmill, it would run, but the display wasn’t working.  It’s basically useless to me without the display.  How will I know when it’s time to do the next interval? And more importantly, how will I know how many glasses of wine I’ve earned calories I’ve burned?

At this point, some of you may be thinking that I would be all “fuck it, fine I’m not supposed to work out.”  Umm no.  It pissed me off and made me determined to work out.

Which I forcefully relayed to my husband.  Who was basically like, “chill baby the battery just came loose” and fixed it in about 2.5 seconds and escaped the room as quickly as he could.

So I did my thing.  My thing involves laying on the floor periodically for stretches and various ab exercises.  I hate sticky sweaty bacteria collecting mats, so I use a folded over blanket.  And yes, I wash it.  Anyway the important part of this is that I layed on the floor.

Tuesday’s workout was a walk in the park compared to the Monday of Technical Difficulties.

Until the very end when I was doing an exercise that required me to lay on the floor on my side and put my arm out.  Where I immediately noticed that my hand was touching some sticky but dry mess on the carpet.  It didn’t take long to determine that it was pee.  Dried up, crusty pee.

I was immediately grossed out because 1) hello, it’s fucking gross! and 2) HOW in the world did I not notice yesterday when I layed in the same place? I mean, the stain was totally dry but had clearly been there for days.  (I’ve since learned that it is basically impossible to see a stain on brown carpet.)

Anyway, back to triumphing over adversity.  I got out a comforter, covered up the carpet, and finished my workout.  How’s that for perserverance?

When I was done, I emailed the hubby to give him the news and debate what exactly was going on here.

Of course my first instinct was to blame the former tenants and work up a pretty good fit about they didn’t have the carpets cleaned after all.  Because my dog would never pee on the floor.

No seriously, I’m going to brag on my dog for a minute.  Other than not being too socialized and a few potty accidents when she was a puppy, she is the perfect dog.  Zero behavior problems.  She can be left alone for hours and as long as we put the trash away, she’s an angel.  No biting, chewing, destroying.

But a 10 year old dog’s bladder can only be stretched so far, and we agreed that perhaps being left alone on New Year’s Eve for several hours was just too much for her.

Especially since, upon further investigation, I found about 6 more spots like that in our bedroom and in the hallway.  So basically what happened was, she peed a little tiny bit in many places so it would dry fast and we wouldn’t notice.

She’s a smart fucking dog, because it totally worked for almost a week.

And? We couldn’t even really punish her because it’s our fault for leaving her alone so long.

Fortunately it was relatively easy to fix since my mom lives here and owns a steam cleaner.  Jerrad picked it up on the way home from work and did all the carpets.  Isn’t he the best?

He was rewarded.  I don’t want to get too specific, but the second word was “job” and the first word started with a “b”.

Sadly, Jelly’s pee has some sort of superpower because the carpet still smells.  So we’re going to go over it again this weekend with special cleaner for pee stains.

I was going to work out again today, but technically I met my goal for the week.  Also, I just had an unfortunate incident with an onion while I was getting dinner in the crockpot.

So I’ve decided to finish this bottle of wine instead.

Tags: carpet stains, working out

This entry was posted by Cathy on Friday, January 8th, 2010 at 2:13 pm and is filed under Healthy Living, Jellydog. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.