My awkward and awesome this week was looking pretty tough, I was struggling to think of anything I could write about. Usually by Thursday I’ve got an idea of where my weekly round up is going, but I was drawing complete blanks. The week was the usual banal plod of work, think of something to cook for dinner, researching holidays we can’t afford, work some more.
Then the weekend hit. And boy, did it hit hard, bringing with it the perfect awkward and awesome for the week!
Zac started a ‘backyard boot camp’ for Lorna and I – a prospect she wasn’t entirely happy about and one I had some concerns over because Zac is usually pretty mean to me in the gym.
Actually, it turned out much better than I thought it was going to and my hammy held up to some jogging, which means I can start pushing myself a little more. Pilates here I come.
We had plenty of giggles – especially during our sets of star jumps; a shared humour over the joys of being ‘slightly older’ and jumping around, that mutual concerned expression followed by out of breath pants agreeing that we needed the toilet before we did anything else.
A brief wall squat and we were inside stretching, Lorna putting me to shame with her flexibility. I used to do gymnastics, but I don’t recall ever being all that flexible then, either. My flexibility largely comes from joint instability, it’s a false sense of range of movement and one I often pay for.
More things to aim for: I’m still determined to do the splits!
Then over the weekend, Zac and I started our NPLQ.
To be honest, I did have concerns about Zac. He has an inability to concentrate for long periods of time, especially with classroom work. He’s hands on, a kinaesthetic learner and unfortunately a large part of the course is classroom based. He was also freaking out about the swimming that he’d have to do, and despite us going to the pool on the regular and trying to get his endurance up, the longest session he’d managed was a halfer and I knew our pool time was a minimum of 2 hours a day.
I’ve already done the course, so I know the drill and I’ve always remained ‘swim fit’, even if I’ve never been particularly ‘fit fit’. I was a competitive swimmer, so my body is used to moving in the water and as an endurance swimmer, my sessions were usually at least 2 hours long anyway.
He was knackered after the first day, but he’s really enjoying it. I’m just pleased that I’ve remembered most of it!
And, me being me, I’m glad I’ve got a new set of notes to annotate.
Sunday morning arrived far too early. I’d managed to get the night off the night before, so it hadn’t been a late one, but despite a mid morning start for the course, there didn’t seem to be enough time to get ready.
As soon as we arrived I managed to drop my water bottle, spilling BCAAs all over the floor. Zac wouldn’t stop eating chocolate in front of me and I was craving a mocha SO BAD, but I didn’t cave, because I’m committed to the cause.
I’d remembered to pack what I needed for work afterwards, but when we went to get ready for our poolside training I had to dash home because I realised I’d forgotten my teeshirt. Slightly stressed but feeling like I’d just about managed to get there, horror rushed through me as I realised I’d also forgotten my bathers. I couldn’t just wear my undies because I hadn’t got spares and I was working in the bar straight after.
Quick call to Dad and I had a cossie on the way, but then I only had 5 minutes to get changed and no coin for the lockers.
I could have cried, but thinking back to the most awkward part of the day, I just sat down and laughed…
I was rushing to get ready in the morning.
Zac’s lunch, made. My lunch, just about there. Work clothes, ready. Work shoes, ready. Coursework, in bag. Drinks, snacks, glasses, yes, yes, yes.
I was brushing my teeth when Zac bursts in to the bathroom, ‘desperate for a piss’ (charming) and goes to the loo. Not an uncommon occurrence and I roll my eyes and carry on.
My scarf and my shirt were on the bench above the toilet, he left without flushing. The bathroom is central to the bedrooms and there’s an unwritten rule in my house, (just like in ‘Meet the Fockers’) that at night/early morning if it’s yellow, let it mellow. Like all great unwritten rules, there’s no clear distinction on the time frames and Zac was just following suit by not flushing.
Annoyed, I reached over to picked up my scarf, ready to shove on as I flushed the toilet. My scarf was underneath the shirt I was about to wear and as I yanked my scarf, my shirt, somehow perfectly balled up and plopped straight in to the open, full toilet.
I’m not sure I’ve ever made a noise like the one I made and in my rush of a morning it nearly brought me to tears.
I ran in to the bedroom looking for a towel so I could immediately wash the shirt. Zac in bed on his phone.
“Did you not hear? Where’s the towel? I need the fucking food towel! I was in distress and you’re just sat there. Fuck sake.”
“Babe, calm down, what happened?”
I told him and he started to laugh.
The third time he brought it up that day, I’d started to find it funny and by the time I was sat, batherless in the changing rooms, waiting for a cossie so I wouldn’t have to go full wet teeshirt comp I was giggling to myself.
Sometimes it’s just one of those days.