So, late last night as I made my way down our stairs for the umpteenth time to drag my husband to bed, I was surprised to find him drenched in sweat and fully engaged in a workout. My yoga mat and towel, laid discarded at his feet.
What in the world is this man doing? I expected to find him asleep, his shirt crumpled on the floor, the remote control in his hand, and QVC blaring. Generally, I have to parley the terms of his couch-television-viewing-hours with the precision of a hostage negotiator. And, despite his best efforts to stay awake, it is all for naught because I inevitably end up peeling his sleeping body off the couch.
But, there he was, intently watching Rocky IV while doing bicep curls. His glistening arms, shoulders and chest, were pumped from the work-out.
Really, it couldn’t have been better. Sylvester Stallone and B, working out together.
Go get’em tiger!
May 12, 2010