Nebulous Mooch

Recently, I got a new cell phone number. I didn’t get this number because I wanted to, rather Verizon Wireless decided to hold my old number hostage for a ransom of $175. Unwilling to pay that much money in order to retain my number, I got a new one and let everyone I knew know about the change. In hindsight, this process wasn’t as bad as it seemed at the time. My anger at Verizon has waned with the passage of time.

Now that I have this new number, I get phone calls, usually from Georgia, for Tony Jacobs. The other day, a mechanic called me to get permission to start doing the work that needs to be done on Tony Jacobs’s car. I wonder why Tony Jacobs would drop his car off at the mechanic’s and not give the mechanic his new phone number. The mechanic seemed baffled by the situation as well.

I got a call from some kind of solicitor for Tony Jacobs a couple of days ago. When I told him that this was no longer Tony Jacobs’s number, he asked, “Do know him?”

“No I don’t know him. I was given this number by the phone company,” I said.

“So you don’t know how I can get in touch with him?” he asked. How would I know something like that?

I should just start pretending to be Tony Jacobs. The people calling me probably wouldn’t notice. It might get back to Tony eventually though.

Even though I grew up up North, I don’t weather the cold well. We’ve only had a few cold days in this area this winter. It’s been a lot milder than usual. Still every time it’s just a little bit cold, I think it’s too cold.

I went to college in Vermont, where some times it snows in April. That is a distant memory to me. At that time it could be freezing and I would hesitate to wear a sweater because I wanted to save my warmest clothes for when it was really cold. Once it was so cold that my car wouldn’t start, and when I went to take my hand off the ignition, my finger was stuck to it. In Vermont at the first hint of spring, I was wearing a summer dress. There’d be a foot of snow still on the ground and boots on my feet, but I was ready for summer.

Now if the temperature dips into the mid seventies, I’m pulling a jacket out of the closet. I get goose bumps from the slightest breeze. “It’ll be 76 degrees tomorrow, I better wear a long sleeved shirt,” I think, planning my outfit for the next day while lying in bed. I didn’t think that thing about your blood thinning if you live in warm climates was true, until I moved to Florida.

My stepson is the opposite. He refuses to wear long sleeves or a jacket in even the coldest weather. I think it’s his way of proving his toughness or something. Well, I have nothing to prove. It’s winter and I’ll be pulling my winter suitcase out of the closet and breaking out the sweaters. I never claimed to be tough.

At this time of year many people make resolutions. A lot of people’s resolutions have to do with weight loss and health. I’m no exception.

Just prior to the New Year, I decided I would become more physically fit. I have to be honest with you. During the past few months, my apartment running has fallen by the wayside. I haven’t had the time, energy or motivation to get off my butt and do it. Occasionally, I do, but it’s more like once every other week. I don’t run the three times a week that I had promised myself I would.

Anyway, I devised a plan. My new exercise routine involved apartment running of course, as well as sit-ups, push-ups, yoga, and some weight lifting. It was a brilliant plan. I was going to become an iron woman in one week. I smiled and worked through the pain. I pushed and pushed myself, while watching 20/20.

The problem was that after two days of my wonderful new exercise program, I was so stiff and achy I could barely touch my toes. The idea of walking made me want to cry. I’m tough though, so I didn’t admit to anyone. I soldiered on for three whole hours before telling my husband what I had done. He laughed and said, “You should know better. Didn’t you tell me that your muscles need time to heal before you exercise them again.” He is right, I did tell him that. I’m a massage therapist; I know about muscles. But knowing about other people’s muscles is completely different than knowing about my own.

So it’s day three of 2007 and I’ve already abandoned my resolution. Well, I haven’t abandoned it completely, I’ve just had to change my plan a little. My limbs are still a bit achy, so I guess it’ll take me two weeks to become an iron woman–not one.