It was one of those unbearably hot Southern days where the humidity makes you feel like a rotisserie chicken on a spit. But sweltering or not, the grass at our house had to be cut. It was already way too high; lawnmower issues had delayed timely cutting. So I launched in, got everything mowed, and then started the trimming. The weed eater sounded angry as I revved it to full power, whacking through the tall grass with a vengeance.
Finally, about three hours after starting, all of that task was complete. I was hot, sticky and sweating profusely; I was soaked to the bone. But there was no time to stop just yet; a couple of broken shingles on the roof also demanded my attention. So after putting up the mower and trimmer, I got the ladder and tools and supplies I would need and mounted the roof. The sun beating down on the asphalt shingles now made my feet feel like I was walking through fire. But a little while later, I was finished and putting all of that up as well.
But it was still not quite time for rest. I had not worked out for the day, and I knew that if I showered off, I would be so comfortable by the time I dried off that I would never in a million years go down to the gym and get sweaty all over again. So, sweat and all, I headed downstairs into the gym. It was legs day, otherwise known as purgatory.
At the gym, I was sweating from extreme exertion to go along with all of the sweat from mowing the grass and fixing the roof. It seemed as if the grass clippings covering my lower legs were sprouting in the dirt caked onto my legs.
Finally, though, I was done with that as well. I cleaned up my weight machines and headed upstairs to the shower, eagerly awaiting the sweet cleansing it offered to my skin and the soothing it promised to my tired muscles.