Pizza and milkshakes...

Monday, September 6th, 2010

Moving day. We were on the road for Columbus by 9 a.m. and I was driving the jeep to be certain that if anything went wrong with my bed wrapping job, I’d be the one to deal with it. Savannah had the van and was headed to pick up Heidi to assist with the move. Though the tarp was firmly in place, there was some ‘strap against roof’ noise whose intent it was to make me crazy. Holly said I’d get used to it in a few miles…kind of like she gets used to my snoring.

“You jab me and threaten to leave me. I wouldn’t call that ‘getting used to it’,” I said. Still, it wasn’t too bad. We made good time and I had no reason to stop and adjust the tarp. Again…a workout was going to be unlikely, so I’d already figured the move would have to burn the calories. Fortunately, she was living on the third floor and I’d get to carry lots of stuff up those steps. Then there was the frustration level calories associated with wedging a box spring on the stairs between the second and third floors. I kept my expletives to myself, though.

In a little over an hour, we had all the furniture and boxes in the house and the girls were headed to pick up a dresser that Savannah had found online. Holly was washing out the kitchen cabinets…and I was waiting for the girls to return with the pizza and ice cream for milk shakes. I needed to do something so I told Holly I was going to walk to the campus to get an idea of how far Savannah would be from her classes.

So…I walked. I headed west on Lane Ave. through the campus and to the Olentangy River, turned around and headed back…hoping the pizza would be there when I returned. It took me 40 minutes and still no pizza. At least I felt like I’d done something in the realm of exercise to offset the fact that I really hadn’t and was eating poorly…again.

When they did return with the pizza, it was cut into party slices…which is to say they took an 8-cut and made it a 40-cut. How in God’s name are you to know how much you’ve eaten when it comes like that? I mean normally I eat four pieces…half a pizza. I know there are people who stop eating when they’re full…right…great idea…but I’m not one of them. I eat with my eyes. Does it look like enough? No? Put another shovel full on the plate and eat until it’s gone. Bad idea for sure…but that’s me. And that’s what I did…kind of. I just kept getting one more piece because I was sure I hadn’t eaten enough yet. By the time I regained control of my eating, I’d probably had 6 slices. And a chocolate milkshake. Crap.

We finished the move-in and stopped by an old friends place to pick up some things to bring back to Cleveland. She was moving from Columbus to our place for a short time and that’s another story, but I got more lifting and moving in. When I returned home to a garage that had been emptied of Savannah’s stuff, I went crazy cleaning and reorganizing for the rest of the night. By the time I was ready for bed, I’d probably done more work than if I’d run 10 miles, but somehow it just didn’t feel like it. If this hip ever gets better, I will never take running for granted again.