There’s something noble and long-suffering about going to the gym on a Friday night. That or it just shouts, “I HAVE NO LIFE.” Between moving Beth home from college and the office party, I missed 2 nights at the gym, so Pat, the martyr for her diet, went to the gym on Friday night.
There was no waiting. I got right on my favorite machine. In fact, there was only one other person there. We discussed our extreme self-sacrifice in the name of being slender. It’s a bond we’ll always share.
