It’s not a good sign…

It's not a good sign that just three days after succumbing to the lure of a Fitbit, I can hear its voice in my head. Its voice is sardonic and dry, sort of like that boy you liked in high school, but were too anxious to talk to.

Self: looks at forecast, notices imminent rain, decides to take the car instead of walking a mile to the train

Fitbit: "What? You're scared of a little rain? You don't own a raincoat? Maybe you're gonna melt. Yeah, that's it."

Fine, Fitbit. I will walk to the train, in the rain, in my lovely raincoat, and I will not actually melt.

P.S. Also, I woke up a little stiff this morning, so instead of stumbling to the kitchen for immediate dosage with tea as I normally would, I did twenty-five toe-touches and twenty-five jumping jacks. What is WRONG with me?

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