The Daily Procrastinator

There comes a time in your life when you have to make tough decisions.  Today was that day for me, a day where I needed to evaluate the course that my life was taking, a day where I looked to the future instead of the past.  Why today, you ask?  Because I discovered my rollerblades in a box in the garage.

Not me. But this is proof that I have been paying attention and do know our readership demographics.

I honestly can’t tell you how long they’ve been there, or the last time I used them.  I have a sneaking suspicion that they were living in this very same box prior to the last move, nearly four years ago.  Logic would tell you that if I haven’t used them since the first four years of the W administration, there was probably a pretty good chance that I wouldn’t be using them again anytime soon.

Logic does not apply to these situations.

This strange little voice appeared in my head.  “Oooh!  Rollerblades!  That would be fun!  And it’s great exercise!”  The more rational part of my brain laughed maniacally at the thought of  me, completely out of practice, in a heap on the sidewalk.  I could see neighbor children rolling up on their Razor scooters, wondering what happened to the crazy lady on rollerblades.

But that wasn’t the only treasure in this Box of Fitness Past.  There was also the softball glove for when I played (again as the token girl) on a co-ed corporate team in 2002.  “I can’t throw this away,” I thought to myself.  “It’s in great condition and I might decide to play again.”  Of course, as I no longer work for a corporation and have no time to spend playing softball two nights a week, the odds of that happening are close to nil.

There were other goodies in there, too.  A yoga mat, some dumbbells, a Pilates ring, a deflated basketball and a knee brace that probably hasn’t fit me since I was 14.  A more rational person would have walked them directly to the garbage can, never to be seen or heard from again.  I am not that person.  Instead, I loaded all of these goodies into a large garbage bag with the intention of taking them to the garbage, but then decided to set them aside so I could think about it for a while longer.  

I realized that getting rid of these things was like kissing a part of my past goodbye; admitting that I no longer have the balance or stamina to handle rollerblades doesn’t make me feel sensible, it makes me feel old.  

So for now, all of the gear will remain in the garage, nestled out of the way.  Who know, maybe there will come a day where I wake up and decide that I desperately want to skate my way to the nearest softball field and look for a corporate co-ed slow-pitch team to join.