Just a Gigolo...

Couch to 5k continues, and the couch is certainly beckoning loudly. I may have to go apologize to the people on my route who lived near the spot where I realized my walking time was up and I had to go back to jogging. I might have said something mildly profane in an outside voice...

Anyhow, yesterday I actually left my house and went to a barbeque. Is the world ending?

Ngoc made some really excellent food for 80 people. Technically there were only six of us plus her family, but I heroically ate at least ten servings. It was only polite, after all.

My ex-cubicle-neighbor Jon was there, acting as the sous chef. He also brought his world-renowned deviled eggs (because, you know, there might have been a shortage of food otherwise) and I heroically ate some of those as well.

(It's possible that my definition of the word "heroically" needs some work. I realize this.)

Speaking of Jon, we were discussing his status now that he's not getting paid to sit next to me and come up with terrible puns all day. Jeff was going with "on sabbatical" or "retired". Jon might also be termed a "house husband". I say that since his wife is now the only one earning a paycheck that he's really a gigolo. It's not often I get to use that word. The good news is that Jon has a sense of humor about this sort of thing. Also, he could probably find a job in about five minutes if he wanted to since he has what the kids might call "mad skillz".

Anyhow, I eventually rolled out to my car at the end of the day and drove home, secure in the knowledge that I would never need to eat again.

Then I got up this morning and ate ice cream.

Yep, I'm an adult. I promise...