The best excuse ever to not workout

We all know how much I hate working out. I hate it. HATE IT. The workout machine wants to know my weight, my age, AND to add insult to injury it makes 50 minutes of my day purely miserable. I think there are many a blog entry on my hatred of it, so I won't belabor the point. So today, as most days, I headed to the gym after work. Jeff was working out by walking home (to supplement the workout he had earlier in the day - Dodge Ball, yes, while at work and yes, it was mandatory that he play) and we were going to meet at home for dinner.

Super. Working out is even worse when I have to go by myself. But I was ready for a good workout because my thoughtful employer provided a Holiday Lunch today which included delectable desserts and chocolate truffles which, unsurprisingly, I couldn't resist.

So - I stopped home, changed, and for a few minutes listened to the cat screaming about not having her litter scooped in an appropriate time frame or something, and headed to the gym. I hopped onto the elliptical machine which is my equipment of choice when I want to focus on the calorie burning and not so much on the getting in shape. I set it to my normal stupid workout and started at my usual stupid pace. The woman on the machine next to me was going at warp speed which added to my existing feelings of workout inadequacy.

At about 22 minutes into my workout the warp speed lady got off the machine and went over to grab another towel (given all the sweat being generated while going warp speed). When she got back on her machine she made some comment about some smell. I couldn't smell anything and dismissed her mysterious scents...I figured she was working out too hard so she was probably going to faint soon, and it was that "right before you faint" smell.

At about 25 minutes into the workout the firemen appeared.

Real firemen. With axes, hats and all the get-up. They indicated to me and my fellow tortured hamsters that we needed to go downstairs. Not evacuate...just go downstairs. So I grab my stuff and go down intent on finding another machine since I had eaten the chocolate goodness for lunch. I hop on another machine and about 5 minutes into my new workout the cleaning lady came over and told everyone they needed to evacuate.

No alarms, no lights, just the cleaning lady. Which was a little strange given the fact that everyone there had ear phones in their ears. But by then there were three fire trucks outside, the number of firemen had quadrupled, and they had hauled in the fire hose and completely blocked the main entrance. I figured there is really no better excuse to not working out than "my gym was on fire."

I really wanted to call Jeff and say "so the good news is...I'll be home early, the bad news is...the gym is burning" but he never answered his phone. Darn! It would have been hilarious.

Hopefully I never have to workout again because my gym burned down. That would be the best.