I'd join a gym

We just got an email about a back-to-school orientation being held in the scalding, scorching, searing, sizzling, smoking, steaming, stuffy, sultry, summery, sweltering, sweltry (alphabetized list of hotness, including the new-to-me "sweltry" courtesy of thesaurus.com) cafeteria at my son's school the third week of this putrid month. My husband recently attended another meeting in the same venue, and his instant response was, "no way, I'm not going. If I wanted to go to a sauna I'd join a gym."

The punch line? We belong to a gym now. It even has a sauna. Here I've been feeling guilty only taking advantage of the gym once or twice a week. At least I know it's there!

I love my marriage. Only with my husband can I feel like a fitness queen with an excellent memory.

PSA: Dropping is bad for laptops

You know those annoying Dell commercials (well, they're all annoying), where they "test" their computers by banging them around? If they were serious about quality control, they'd hand the equipment over to me for a while. I may have a literally magnetic personality, as hard drives become forgetful in my presence, and my clumsiness is well known within my circle of friends and family. I disregard laptop care basics like not eating while laptopping (because I spend a large percentage of my waking hours both eating AND staring zombie-like at the computer, and I am nothing if not a multitasker) and only putting laptops on stable surfaces.

This last became a real problem today, when the laptop I use, which actually technically belongs to my mother, fell from its oh-so-precarious perch on the arm of the couch. It fell something like 14" (which I would argue is really not that traumatic) and became quite truculent afterward, spouting some obscene-sounding nonsense about its boot record being unmountable. The foul-mouthed ungrateful thing resisted my earnest efforts to soothe it, and I finally gave up (so I could turn my attention to my three year old, who was acting equally truculent despite not having been dropped on his head. Recently.).

But! My husband is a genius. He is the laptop whisperer. He told the stupid thing where to shove its unmountable booted ass, and I am back up and running, baby. None too soon, either, as I was getting the shakes and was unable to find a methadone-equivalent for computer addicts.