Yesterday I found myself at Ryan's house debating whether or not to go home and use my gym or to use Adam's Malibu Pilates chair and videos. I thought about it for quite some time. The pilates chair was in the basement. Pros: I don't have to leave yet. Cons: There are bugs in the basement, I don't know how to hook up the DVD to the downstairs TV, and I was afraid Ryan would laugh at me if I brought the chair upstairs.
Finally I decided to do some pilates, so Ryan helped me bring the chair upstairs and promised not to make fun of me.
It was a nice workout. At the end, being the good citizen that I am, I made the executive decision to carry the pilates chair to the basement by myself so that Ryan could continue to work. He even asked me if I needed help and I said that I didn't. I picked up the pilates chair, took about 2 steps downstairs, and the footpedal flew up and hit me in the forhead.
Unfortunately, the first word out of my mouth was one I don't care to repeat. Ryan rushed over and grabbed the chair from me, returning it to its place as I sat on the steps crying. He got me an ice pack and sat with me until I realized how rediculous it was and then we laughed for a long time. I now have a lovely bump right smack in the middle of my forhead with some beautiful purple tinting.
I made Ryan promise not to tell Adam...yet.
My head hurts.