Sweatin' to the Alky's

My arms ache like hell, and my knees feel like I just climbed to the top of the Sears Tower. I'm working out again. When I found out that our town had a gym that residents only had to pay a hundred dollars a year to join, I said "why not?". It's nothing fancy, it isn't very big, but everything is new and did I mention, it's only a hundred dollars! My only problem is figuring out when the least amount of people are using it. Not because I'm embarrassed that somebody I know will see my fat ass struggling to lift ten pounds. I just don't like to wait for a piece of equipment while some sweaty asshole sits on the machine between each set of reps, yakking it up with everyone around him. I'm sure I'll never get back to the shape I was in before I met Mark, but at least I'm trying.

The gym is just one of the nice things about our little town that makes it a good place to live. When I first got my dog Molly, I was able to take her to free dog training classes in the park, courtesy of the City. Not that it made her as obedient as Lassie, but at least it made her listen to me, when she wanted to that is. Another great benefit our town gives it's residents, is the free bus that makes a circuit through town once a hour. In fact, I time my workout so that I can walk outside and just jump on the little bus for the ride home.

Of course nothing is perfect. Lately I have noticed that the local bums have discovered the free bus. After all, if you were an alcoholic, homeless, stinky person wouldn't you want to spend the day riding around on nice cushy seats in air-conditioned comfort? Today I broke one of the cardinal rules of public transportation, I said hello to another passenger. A smelly, inebriated, talkative, passenger. During the ride from the gym to my stop, I learned from him, that Tropical Storm Fay was going to do a u-turn and come back to Fort Lauderdale and kill us. I found out that my drunken buddy used to be a professional tennis player, who for some reason, only played girls. And finally, I found out that I was in the company of one of the Cowsills (A singing group from the 60's that the Partridge Family was loosely based on), and that they wouldn't have broken up if 'mom' hadn't died. But he assured me, there was still a possibility that they would tour again. I guess riding around all day on that bus brought back memories for him.