Election Eve 2008

On the eve of an election, it is customary to launch forth with a lengthy diatribe on the right and duty of all informed citizens to vote for the candidate of their choice, thus ensuring that our representative form of government successfully navigates the shoals of fickle Fate to flourish unto the fourth centennial of our founding Fathers' famous foray into freedom.

Unfortunately, I'm not into custom. So let it suffice to say, Go Vote, and God give you the wisdom to make the right choice, and the courage to face the consequences. Whoever gets elected is going to need all the grace and strength he can get. It's a messy world out there.

Speaking of messy, I'm fat. Fat-ter. Supposed to be around one hundred thirty-five to one hundred forty-eight pounds, sopping wet. The bathroom scale has the audacity to declare that my actual weight is pegging out somewhere around one hundred sixty pounds. The weight itself isn't that big a deal -- it's just a number -- but my insides feel a bit cramped and I'm getting tired of the extra lap for my laptop.

The problem is that there is too much Work work to do and not enough of the kind of work that involves moving muscles other than my fingers. I have nice, skinny, fit'n'trim fingers who love to dance over the keys on the laptop. But due to the amount of work which is done sitting down, and the odd impulse to snack while doing mental calculations, and my pathetic lack of self-control, my midsection is spreading to the four winds.

Would that it were possible to forego all the computational gymnastics and perform a few floor exercises in their stead, that might transform this flabby form into one of fantastic fitfulness! That, however, is unlikely, given the nature of my current position (hierarchical, not physical). Duty calls, and to (mis)quote young Frederick, "Duty before all!" (And he did get the girl in the end, you know, so he must've been doing something right.)

I am the very Model of a Modern Middle Manager.

The only alternative is to cut down on the consumption of complex carbohydrates, such as those yummy cinnamon rolls Cheryl made for breakfast this morning; and the yummy banana bread muffins she's making for tomorrow; and the yummy home-made pizza she makes on Friday nights; and the yummy pasta dishes she makes; and the soothing vanilla milkshakes that are my nightly antidote to the acids inherent in the daily indulgence of Coca-Cola products, which are only imbibed to counter the effects of the daily anthistamines which are taken to dilute the effects of the voluminious amounts of cat dander which are floating around in the ventilation system here at the house.

(No, you're right. It's my own fault if my weight keeps going up. There isn't a self-controlled bone in my entire body!)

I assuage my guilt with the thought that winter is a good time to add a little padding to the old bod, to keep warm when the snow starts falling and the ice piles up on the roads and so much of our time is spent outside. Shovelling.