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GRAY, WRETCHED DAY

Some days the weather is so God-awful, your spirit fails. Not wild storms or snow, which are kind of invigorating. But the cold, wet gray that just sits there, on your head and turns you pale. The road does not beckon, the skis are no use…it’s a good day to start to rot. Get it over with. Do it now, while your wife is out of town.

Okay, you’re like an alcoholic of rot. Potentially. And what do addicts do? Why, they call a friend. Today, I didn’t have to…my dear friend, Jack, called me and – without preface – said he’d meet me at the local gym at three. Saved! We met, we worked out. My spirit soared. Tonight, we’ll all have dinner. Maybe a martini, to complete the restorative work started this afternoon, in the stinking gym. Then spin class in the morning. SAVED!

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Chris Crowley

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