When the parts for my exercise machine finally arrived, I was thrilled! Unfortunately, I didn’t have the tools to install the parts. Lucky for me, my next door neighbor had the tools–as well as the wherewithal–to get the job done. I don’t know what I would have done without his help. I’m exceedingly lucky in that sense, and exceedingly unlucky in another: After he left, I discovered I needed additional parts, so I was not able to use the machine–yet. Once again, I contacted the manufacturer and waited.
As the days dragged on. I found myself taking longer walks to run errands I didn’t really need to run. I took care of the garden, killed weeds in the backyard, and generally moved around as much as possible. I cleaned things around the house even when they were not dirty. I took my laundry to a laundromat farther away from home, just for the exercise.
That would have been all well and good, until I decided to fall off the wagon of weightlessness. Then it got ugly.
I haven’t written anything about weightlessness for some days or weeks. I haven’t counted, but my body tells me I don’t feel as well and upbeat as usual. My exercise machine, for all the extreme goodness that it has provided me, has let me down. Again and again. Part after part delivered and installed, emails back and forth confirming…wrong part or part I don’t know how to install, I am nearly ready to give up.
My most recent foray into fixing the machine included taking it all apart. That was quite a task. With everything in pieces, I broke down and looked for a consultant on Craigslist. I found a welder who also does repair. If he’s as good as his portfolio shows, I’ll be good to go. Just waiting, always waiting, for something to happen.
On the bright side, instead of using my exercise machine, I work in my garden, take longer walks, and do things that I had been procrastinating about. Despite the 80+ degree weather, I sit peacefully in the garden, watching the butterflies and dragon flies. Later on, I might be sipping a beer on the patio outside, under the umbrella.
And yet, I can’t wait for a phone call from the welder I contacted on Craigslist. That is foremost in my mind.