Good morning, party people.
Jack's on some road trip with his coworkers to Madison and Milwaukee for business-type happenings so I'm holding down the fort at the Fahden casa. And by 'holding down the fort', I mean checking the bathtub, the little troll closet in our guest room and the creepy crawlspace in the basement for robbers upon arriving home from work. 'Holding down the fort' also includes leaving an obnoxious amount of outdoor lights on when I go to bed, locking the bedroom door and pounding a healthy serving of peanut butter cup ice-cream for good measure.
Speaking of pounding ice-cream, how many of you knew that this chick likes to run (#humblebrag)? I am usually pretty good in the spring, summer and fall because I can hit the open road after work while it's still light out. But come winter, I only run outside on the weekend. One of the many things I love about living where we live is the winding country roads that go on forever with no stop signs, barely any cars or peds and the occasional gigantic teddy bear laying on the side of the road (true story).
Anyhoo, we do have a treadmill in the basement which has a nice view of a cement wall, some cobwebs and Jack's intense weight lifting bench type contraption. So I really have no excuse not to run during the week. Basically where I'm going with this is that if you guys just chip in and buy me the stuff below ($700 vintage walkman and all), I'll agree to start running on weeknights. Except the shoes. I have the shoes. I feel weird having you see what my running shoes look like for some reason. Once I wore sneakers to a party and my friend Amanda was like "whoa I've never seen you in tennis shoes" which was embarrassing.
Over and out.