How not to NOT go to gym

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! That is the internal primal scream response that emanantes from a small reserve area of my brain that has sparked to life - a few billion nerve endings, that's all - in response to my freaking bleeping phone. It's 6:40am and there are my gym clothes, laying in wait. My eyelashes flutter weakly against the pillow, like a pair of sleepy moths.

Now I remember. I was up until 2am typing out that damned script - WHY THE WORLD NEEDS BATMAN. There is NOOOOOOO way in Gotham that I am going to get up and lift weights now. I get up and type an sms into my phone:
SOZ LATE NIGHT. WILL GYM LATER TODAY. NJOY. And off it goes. I'm supposed to be meeting A at 7am, and everybody knows (and he will soon) that there is no way that that is going to happen.

I get up to do some voiding, vaguely aware of a repetitive dream that has hooked in my consciousness. Something about a waterfall, with not much water in it, but it looks like there is...and some female leader going down it because it's a sort of a rite of passage. And then I went down. And it was supposed to flow into the sea not far away from there. Very bizarre.

So I'm back in bed, my body is basically weeping quietly (from being woken up) and I'm expecting the sandman to dump a truckload of sand on my face any minute. I glance at my watch. 7am. Then there's that irritating buzz, like a fly against a freaking window, from my phone, with a message that has come through. I resist the urge to look. Unfortunately my irritation now infects other nerve centres - previously dormant - and a few cursory thoughts flicker through my brain. WORK! BOSS! STATS! SEX AND THE CITY! I rub my nose in my pillow. Noooo. Just...nooo. I turn and check the sms:
NO WORRIES. I'M NOT GOING TO WORRY ABOUT YOUR FITNESS ANYMORE ;)

I lay back down. It's 7:12 anyway. GRRRRRR. Too late to go to gym. 7:15. 7:16. Jeepers I can't go back to sleep. At 7:21 I am out the door, in my car, and by 7:27 I am in the gym, doing pull ups. It turned out to be a lekker session - the core stuff was especially hard.

Moral of the story? Just get out the door, no matter how cold, no matter how little sleep you've had. You'll be glad you did, and it beats beating yourself up, or rehearsing excuses for why you didn't go.

Do we ever enjoy what we have?

I've got a few books on my bedside table, and usually I am a ravenous reader. I haven't even gotten through the first 10 pages of my new Grisham book. Then I went through my little library and started counting how many books I've bought and not even read. Then I went through the magazines. Ja, you read one or two stories, and save the rest for later. The problem is, there is no later. And CD's and so forth. When do we have time to actually enjoy the fruits - so-called - of our labours. My advice: make time. And to help with that, unplug the TV.