Old-Fashioned Workout

The first phone call came at 5:30 this morning.  We expected it, yet I groaned grumpily from my sleep as I reached over to answer it.  The superintendent’s recorded voice announced the snow day and I pressed the end call button, rolled over, and slipped back into my dreams.  The second call came before I was out of bed, but at least I was awake.  It was my morning client, canceling his training session.  He was apologetic, offering to pay for the session anyway, but, as I peered out the bedroom window and saw the snow flying hard and fast, I assured him he was off the hook for both his hour of exertion and his payment.  I sensed an old-fashioned workout day coming on.

We pulled ourselves out of bed long enough to fix steaming hot cups of coffee, then climbed back in to snuggle down to watch the news.  We moseyed downstairs for a hearty vegan non-BLT, subbing soy bacon for the B, and garlic-sauteed kale for the L.  Bundled in blizzard-wear and armed with shovels, we trudged outside to clean off the cars, clear the driveway, and expose the front walk.

Back indoors, I took out the mixer and whipped up a double batch of cookie dough.  The scent of chocolate chocolate chip cookies filled the house with cocoa-y deliciousness.  Then the workout began in earnest.  With company coming for dinner this Saturday night, and a bunch of girlfriends from high school on deck for next weekend, I vacuumed with a vengeance.  I slung the nozzle into every nook and cranny in the downstairs of the house.  I moved rugs, tables, and chairs, dragging the canister behind me, thrusting the wide head of the vacuum back and forth over all visible areas.  I stuffed piles of papers into bags and shoved them into my studio.  Three big bags of clothes for the thrift shop were hefted from the front hall and tossed beside the papers.  Framed but unhung paintings and posters that had been stacked against the walls in the dining room, the foyer, and the office were lugged away and stacked in the studio, too.  I DUSTED!  With a can of beeswax spray in one hand and a couple of exhausted dishtowels in the other, I sprang into action in the living room, the dining room (who invented wainscoting, anyway?), the bathroom, and the kitchen, squirting and wiping down tables, cabinets, the pellet stove, wooden chairs, doorways, picture frames, and anything else that looked like it could withstand my vigorous touch.

I sprayed copious amounts of Mrs. Meyers window cleaner and soon the bathroom mirror sparkled.  Her all-purpose cleaner revealed the pretty pedestal sink we put in the bathroom last year.  I scrubbed the worn wood of the bathroom floor, and although it looked no different, I could sense an improvement.  Back in the living room, I shoved the big chairs around, moving them closer together to create a seating area, rather than the open screening set up we use to watch movies.  I moved the couch and the ottoman.  I cleared off end tables.  I stacked magazines neatly in the magazine rack, knowing deep down that once they were there, I had almost no chance of ever looking at them again.  (They become invisible once they are put away…)

Back in the kitchen, I measured and mixed up a batch of seitan, kneading the stiff dough with all the energy left in my upper body.  Placing the patties in broth on the stove to simmer, I headed upstairs for a shower. My body felt the same as after yesterday’s run and Body Combat class.  There’s nothing wrong with an old-fashioned workout once in a while.

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Tags: housework, winter training

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