Late yesterday afternoon, my newest toy arrived: a treadmill. In a fit of insanity, last weekend I gathered up the money I've been saving for the past year or so, and bought myself a treadmill. This means that, when I'm finished working for the day and I'm hankering for a walk, it won't matter that it's pitch-black and cold/windy/rainy outside. It also means that I can watch TV while I'm walking, which will occupy my attention more than the latest possum carcass by the side of the road.
The first thing I did, after watching the delivery man set up the machine, was to drive down to the local hardware store and buy a wire shelf, which I've attached to the handles via cable ties. This afternoon I tried out the brand new treadputer: laptop on the wire shelf, treadmill set to a low speed, I cranked out my daily quota quicker than I have done for a long time. The whole walking thing helps keep my mind focussed, and when a good song comes on I can always pause the writing and crank up the speed. It was quite refreshing, although I must admit that my lower back is a little tight and I'm now quite tired.
The one thing I hate about treadmills, though? Is how when I press stop, the solid ground starts to sway and my knees can't be trusted. Most disconcerting.
Today's scene (which has been the scene in progress for a couple of days now, actually) has been fighting me so far. Today it took an unexpected turn, but it still ended up in the same place so no damage done. In fact, I think it makes more sense this way. I even have a darling du jour today:
"You don't want to be dead. You just want to be a goatherd." He flashed a grin. "I'm told there's a difference, although I struggle to see it, myself."