I tend to get obsessed with things. When I get excited about something I jump in with both feet. Like having kids. I had four in under four years. I couldn’t get enough.
I had four kids and then I was over it. No more. I’m done. Time to move on.
My latest obsession is my new Fitbit. I cannot get enough of this little miracle. There is nothing it can’t do.
It tells me how many steps I take. It tracks my sleep. It tells me how many steps my friends are taking. And as long as it doesn’t track my alcohol consumption, we’re all good.
It is capable of keeping track of my calorie intake. However, I’m not always that honest. I tend to only log what I should be eating instead of what I am actually consuming. But if I was, I would have lost ten pounds by now. Amazing.
I love seeing how many times I wake at night. It’s nice to have a little device to tell me I don’t get nearly enough sleep. It’s like someone actually believes me.
I like comparing a sober night’s sleep to a drunken night’s sleep. Like the other night when I was sleep walking around the house and crawled into bed with my kids. Mom, why did you sleep in our bed last night? Oh I see, it’s okay for you guys to sleep in my bed, but God forbid I come sleep in yours.
I went to a party on Saturday night in the neighborhood and I was so excited when I woke up on Sunday morning. Not because of the massive hangover I had, but because I walked home from the party at 3am. Which means I woke up with thousands of steps already in my Fitbit.
This is what my life has become. This is what excites me now. It’s sad. But also amazingly thrilling at the same time.
My co-workers are thrilled about my Fitbit. They love when I’m jogging in place through every conversation we have. And when I do laps around their rooms during meetings. I also love to volunteer to get papers from the printer because it’s all the way down the hall. Step, step, steps.
I stayed up until midnight the other night to see if there would be a teacher’s strike here in Chicago. There was only one reason I was hoping we would strike. And that was because of my Fitbit. Imagine all of the steps I would have racked up on that picket line.
I can’t go to sleep at night without making sure my steps are in. Even if it means jogging in place in my house coat. While my son video tapes me.
Beau is not sharing my enthusiasm. He doesn’t like walking everywhere. Like I do. Right now. I think I’m going to buy him one. Then he’ll get it.
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