Exercise me!

As part of my New Year's non-resolution, I've committed to sticking with my exercise routine. This means a minimum of 30 minutes of physical activity a day which can include housework (blah), dog walking, pole dancing and sex (those last two can go together).

Now that "Twing" has arrived in northern Ontario (you know, the twilight of Spring), I decided the day's 30 minutes would be exercise for me and the pooch. You would think this was only good for my legs but, the way my dog walks, it's pretty much a full-on routine.  Roxie is a poodle which means she still thinks she's a puppy even though she's almost 6 years old. So she still chases leaves, squirrels, buses, SUVs, joggers and other dogs. Which gives my arms a great workout.

We are in that season of the year when the snow melts and reveals all the beauty buried beneath -- the Tim Horton's coffee cups, discarded winter clothing (even found a pair of boots?!), dirt, sand and more -- mostly floating in puddles. So you can imagine how all this ends up in the wool of a overdue-to-be-groomed apricot poodle. Part two of our workout was a bath.

Unlike most dogs, Roxie does not like taking a bath. I have to trick her into staying with me long enough to wrap a towel around her and carry her upstairs to the cave of torture (also known as the "Boy's Bathroom"). This is generally done with treats and misleading comments (ie. "good dog" "where's the cat/squirrel", etc.). After showering off a pound or two of sand, wrestling with a wet dog to soap and towel her dry, then chasing her around the house, you'd think I've had enough of a workout. Except, as I am rinsing the dirt out of the tub, I realize that some of that dirt is of a more permanent variety.

I live with 4 grown men and one thing I have learned -- men will not clean a bathroom. At least not properly. Whether they don't notice the dirt or just don't care, I have no idea. One man told me that it was gross. I guess that makes it woman's work, although why it should be I don't know. We're not the ones who splash all around the toilet. We make our aim accurate but getting as close to the subject as possible. Men have this macho need to prove their aim is accurate. So, being the Mom that I am, I clean the bathroom for my teenage boys.

Enough with the exercise, right? Not quite. I get a call from a prospective employer (okay, Avon, but cash is cash) who is coming over. Of course, it is a woman so that means I have to clean the visible parts of the house (only women understand that when another woman is visiting, you have to clean so they don't get the impression you are a bad housekeeper). So I haul out the vacuum, clean up the powder room (she might need to use the toilet), scoop the cat litter, wash up some glass and mystery stuff on the floor (where that came from, I have no idea, and the kids aren't talking), move some furniture and dust a bit. You know, just a quick tidy-up.

Then my son arrives home from work and asks if I want to go to the gym with him. Uh, no. I think my 30 minutes is up.