Recently, while trying to loosen a
knot in my hamstring muscles by leading with my heels as I walked the living
room/kitchen/dining room circuit, I vowed to stretch more often.
But how to find time?
How could I loosen my muscles without
losing momentum on my work in progress?
Charley
horse gone, I returned to my chair and strafed the Internet. I found several
lists of exercises I could do in my chair, printed them out, and began my new
routine.
I started with an exercise for my
neck, tilting my head slowly from side to side and then from front to back.
Bad move.
From
that angle I noticed cobwebs festooned where the walls met the ceiling. Yes,
festooned. This wasn’t the work of a single spider. There must have been a
convention since I last swept up there—a date lost in the mists of time.
Having spotted them, I could think of
nothing else. With a sigh, I trudged to the kitchen in search of the broom. Twenty
minutes later I found it in the garage, returned to my office, and attacked. “This
is also exercise,” I told myself.
Half an hour later, in my chair once
more, I tried arm and shoulder stretches, interlacing my fingers and stretching
my arms out in front at shoulder level.
Through the lattice of my fingers, I
spotted blops and smudges on my computer screen, crud in my keyboard, and dust
on the desk.
As you can imagine, I soon found
myself bound for the kitchen again. Digging into that scary cabinet beneath the
sink—and making a note to organize it later—I found the special screen cleaner
and banished the blotches. With a paintbrush, I cleaned the keyboard. Then I dusted
the desk, organizing as I went.
After writing for half an hour, I
attempted the full back release. I put my feet flat on the floor, let my arms
hang loose, and slowly curled forward until—
Crap.
Dust
bunnies.
And
not just one or two. The area beneath my desk was a dust bunny breeding ground,
a regular warren for the little gray critters.
I dragged myself to the kitchen again
and found the vacuum, but not the brush I needed. That surfaced in the guest
room, but only after an exhaustive search. Once I got it in place, I did the
entire floor and sucked the grit from the closet louvers.
Back
in my chair, I attempted quadriceps contractions, extending my legs and
tightening my thigh muscles for the count of ten. Around five, I noticed a
definite wobble in my chair.
I
rocked from side to side.
Dang
it!
Definitely
a loose screw.
Stomping to the kitchen, I pawed
through the junk drawer—making a mental note to straighten it out, maybe
tomorrow—and excavated a screwdriver.
I returned to my office, tightened the
offending screws, and tossed the exercise sheet into the overflowing recycling
bin—after making yet another mental note to cart that outside and empty it.
And so, the sun set on my attempt at
exercising at the keyboard.
And, as almost everyone knows, when
the sun sets, it’s time for an adult beverage.
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