|What I wore (but not to the gym): Shoes, Walmart. Jeans, Gap. Tank, Old Navy. |
Vest, JCPenney. Hat, Charlotte Russe.
Yesterday was a long, productive day of writing. So productive that I "clocked out" (with my imaginary time card...weeeirdo) thirty minutes later than usual, making me thirty minutes late to the gym. I rushed to get my stuff together...
Novel I'm supposed to read? Check.
Magazine I may have accidentally ended up reading instead? Check.
Water bottle, iPod, keys, phone? Checkity check, check, check.
I skipped down to the gym at our apartment complex, my mind still buzzing
with my writing progress. I hopped on the treadmill and cranked up the mph.
Something wasn't right. Perhaps that was because I was wearing flip flops. On the treadmill. Thank goodness there was no one else in the gym to see me.
And thank God it was my footwear I forgot, not something REALLY important.
Like my sports bra.
Or my pants.
(Though, after the flip flop debacle, I definitely double-checked
to make sure I was in fact wearing both of those items.)
I walk-of-shamed it back to the apartment to change shoes, and back to the treadmill I went. Apparently this is what happens when you use up all your brain power before 5 o'clock. If I keep this up, I'm going to need a label exclusively for posts about my blonde moments.