First Day of Spring

Rolled over and kicked the alarm clock's ass this morning. Four in the morning and that alarm clock got it, dawg. I mean, you just can't wake a man up all early and think nothing is going to happen to you.

Absently throwing the covers off and rolling out of bed, I start thinking about the impending workout. Thirty minutes of cardio and a little chest work. Should be in and out after an hour. Nothing to it. It's the beginning of the fourth week and I am starting to find my rhythm--gaining some momentum. And then I got that feeling. Damn. "We should get an accumulation of 6"-12" of snow in the Denver metro area," the broadcaster's canned voice rushed back. Fuck. I look out of the bedroom window and see a maelstrom of snow. Blowing, falling, and swirling snow. Staring out the window, my mind races forward to getting my sweats on, throwing on some boots, scrapping the snow off my car, and risking an accident. Not to mention that, in these conditions, this whole process will take longer than the workout. Subsequently, I suffered acute onset of anal glaucoma. I couldn't see my ass doing it.