…then I am old. Ancient, in fact.
Trying to expiate Friday’s many fried-food sins, I went for a 6.5-mile endurance hike on Saturday, followed by a 5-hour shopping marathon (there’s never any time during the week). Today we squeezed in a round of golf on what was probably the slowest golf day ever – 4.5 hours to play what normally takes us 3-3.5 hours.
(Did I mention that we always walk the course? Carts are for sissies!)
I am sore. I am exhausted. I am hobbling around the house wondering why I thought that fried food was something that needed to be worked off.
I need a bubble bath. Stat.