Steps To Being Vivacious

Forgive me, dear readers, for embarking yet again, and so soonly, upon another absolutely nothingful blog.
This afternoon, as I left my apartment building I had only one thought in my mind. → READ BOOK!
Because of certain distractions lately, I have not had the kind of reading time I would prefer.
Basically, I would prefer my reading time to be umm… constant, and never-ending!

So there I was, walking down the street on my way to Starbucks, excited about some afternoon time with Owen Meany.
A Vivacious Blonde Woman walked toward me.

Hey, it’s my neighbor.
She lives right next to me on the 14th floor. [Alas, she is married].
So I nodded, and we exchanged a “Hi” as we passed by each other.
Then I walked backwards for a bit.
My God, it’s warm out all of a sudden. Why am I wearing a jacket?
Whoa! Unseasonably warm!
A minute or so later, I set my backpack down and, while stuffing my jacket into it, noticed that I had forgotten my book! Owen Meany is NOT IN HERE!
Damn!
Now I’m walking back to my building.

Took the elevator up and retrieved my book. Just as I get back to the elevator, the stairwell door opens and into the hallway walks The Vivacious Blonde Woman.
We say “Hi” again.
My God! Did she just run all the way up the stairs to our floor?
Seriously, as she’s unlocking her own door I say to her, “My God! Did you just run all the way up the stairs to our floor?”
“Yep,” she says. “I try to do it as often as I can,” and there is not even the slightest huffing and puffing going on. No chest-heaving cardiac problems whatsoever. Just a nice little flush on the face. And a beaming smile.
So I am horrified.

I say to her, “If I had just run all the way up those stairs,” and I point to the door that is still slowly closing shut, “I would be right now trying to stuff my lungs back into my throat.”
She laughs a bit, shrugs apologetically, and goes into her apartment as my elevator door opens.
As I was hauled on down to the main floor again, I must say, I did not feel vivacious at all. I shuffled on out to the street, realizing that even taking the damn elevator tired me out!
Hmmmm.
Could part of my cardio-problems be connected to the fact that the closest I ever get to eating from The Five Daily Food Groups© is when I’m handed a bag of bun, pickle, cheese, mayonnaise, and cow at the Drive-Thru window?

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