Too old to zumba
Looking at the posters for the zumba classes at the local community centre, of which several adorn the approach to the pocket park behind the house, I discover that I have aged out of the possibility of going to these, as beyond a certain age-group they cannot get insurance.
(It is possibly the thought that zumba classes require insurance that puts me off as much as anything.)
But, in Dept of Fairly Good Things:
Today was the kind of day that defines Glorious Autumnal weather
I found the gym membership card I thought I'd lost and would have to pay to replace - it had, as far as I can tell, migrated via the torn lining of my leather jacket from one pocket to the other.
Did I mention the Whopping Tax Refund? - this led to the Shiny New Phone thing, but not sure I mentioned this catalytic factor.
Dept of Schadenfreude: I may have griped here on and off about a chapter I was obliged to write for a massive scholarly volume with very strict parameters on length and which has been running for (seems like) years. One of the editors has asked me to look over one of the chapters they have been fingered for contributing, and it is possible that I am sitting here rocking with Evil Villainous Larfter.
Sure I am a vain creature, but 'tis exceeding gratifying to encounter new fans of the Dowager Marchioness.
And cold pheasant on freshly baked brown oatmeal bread is a delicious sandwich.
This entry was originally posted at http://oursin.dreamwidth.org/2508128.html. Please comment there using OpenID. View
comments.