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  • Writer's pictureLeah Jones

To follow up, yes, I went to the gym.

I went to the gym. If you are noting the time in between posts, you are correct. I barely went to the gym. I walked over, got on the eliptical trainer for thirty minutes (watched an episode of Friends, the one with Brad Pitt), did some sit-ups, and came home. But I did go.

I need some new work-out pants. Some that stay up and don’t hold so much sweat in them. But these are my lovely blue pants from H&M, proof that I can fit into something at H&M. These pants and my black (grayish) sweater.

Now if I can just do the dishes. But I think in my future skinny-hot life, I won’t have to do dishes. Mr. Tall Dork and Jewish will take me out to dinner everynight or cook a fantastic (low point) dinner. Mr. TDJ will also load and unload the dishwasher. He won’t be afraid of loading it wrong, because he probably grew up with one and knows how to use it.

And a random thing.

Last night a friend took me to an Israeli restaurant and our waitress had a big, ol’ rhinestone cross on. I thought that was funny, given the number of Stars of David and Menorahs in the room. But somebody has to work on Shabbat, right?

In the middle of appetizers, a familiar face walked in. It was Smelly Man–a customer/local neighborhood crazy from The Shop in Ravenswood. For months we battled him. At first we gave him coffee, but as the summer wore on, his smell grew and his attitude darkened. Eventually we had to ban him from the store, his smell (feces, urine, vodka) would make your eyes water and made certain coworkers vomit. Anyway, there we were last night. Devon and Sacramento, pretty far from Ravenswood, and in walks Smelly Man. He was still Smelly. The waitress did a fine job of removing him from the premisis. But I was in shock–how could he be here? How does he survive?

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