I’m not going to be able to get any more lifts in this week because I’m going out of town tomorrow.
My wife’s job has Christmas parties all over the freaking country and she’s been begging me to go to a few. It’s the weirdest thing ever. They pay for our flights and our hotel room. These are some pretty sweet hotels too. What a waste of money.
Last month, I put my foot down and told my wife that even though that sounded like a good deal I was gonna pass. I’ve never been to any of these cities but that’s mostly because I didn’t really want to go. Mostly, though, I didn’t want to miss any time at the gym. She was disappointed but I thought she was over it. Then, later on, she asked again. Again, I said no. This little song and dance went on for weeks until I finally gave in and agreed to go this weekend. As soon as I agreed to that she roped me into going to another one in two weeks with the promise that I could fly in the day of and be back on a plane in 24 hours.
WTF? I thought I was the man of the house! Ah, married life.
I’m going to be checking out the sights at some city I never wanted to visit on Friday when I’d rather be deadlifting but them’s the breaks. I’ll be making small talk with complete strangers on Saturday when I should be running. The lift will have to wait until Monday now. I’m gonna try to squeeze in my run tomorrow before my flight but that’s gonna be cutting it close. We’ll see. I’ll give it my best shot.