Going Commando In The Snow

"Your moobs have shrunk again dear," d observed, raising her knees almost resentfully.
"That's nice dear," I panted. "Waah!" I added, swaying a little sideways.
"Focus baby," said d, going a little red in the face and breathing out hard.
"Sorry, yeah," I said, concentrating on my moves.

"Annnnd pull yourselves to the shallow end!" called Ricky, the aquacise instructor. He's a cheerful soul, is Ricky. I frequently want to slap him. I most frequently want to slap him on Saturday morning, when aquacise takes place before anyone sensible is awake.
This morning, Ricky punished us with cold water, loud music and a cheerfulness only marginally dented by the fact that he'd drunk wine the night before. We swam, and star jumped, and beggared about getting exhausted and stretchy.

It started snowing while we were jazz-handsing.
"Brr," said d and I simultaneously as we got out into the cold again and buggered off home as quickly as we could.
When we got in, I gave in to the whispering voices and did an unofficial weigh-in. That was fun. Unofficial fun goddammit, but fun nevertheless. Then I went back out for gym tasting. With Ricky The Git.

Ahem...
Now, there's a little bit of magicianry you need to understand here. To go back to the gym, I wore my gym shorts in place of underwear, and covered them with sweatpants. To do the actual gym work, I got rid of the sweatpants, and then to come home, I got out of the then-sweaty shorts, and went commando in the sweatpants.

Did I mention the snow? To make sure I didn't end up with soggy pant-bottoms, I tucked the sweats into my socks. That meant I was then walking through the snow, commando, in sweatpants that were pulling away from their useful position with every step.
"Please, gods I don't believe in, don't fuck me over today," I muttered, yanking up the pants against the demands of gravity.

Oh yeah, did I mention the snow? d had asked me to pick up some milk when I came out of the gym, so I was headed for the store before home. Except....it had snowed. Which meant half the Valley was in the store before me, panic-buying like consumerism and groceries were going out of fashion. I met d at the store, and we ended up with two big heavy bagfuls of assorted stuff. Now of course, it's in the Gentleman's Code (and also, as it happens, in the Douchebag Who Wants To Get Laid's Code) that when there are big heavy bags of groceries to be caried, the technical penis-owner is the one who gets to carry them. So now I was waddling, Chaplin-like, with a bag in each hand, trying, essentially to hula my trousers with every step so the action of each step didn't yank them over my newishly revealed hips.
"What...the...Hell?" said d, watching me.
I explained.
"Oh for God's..." she chuckled. "C'mere..."
And there, in a Merthyr arcade, she yanked up my sweater, undid the knot holding my trousers together, and re-did me.
"How you doin'?" I tried.
"Focus, dear...Fuck me," muttered d.
"Alrighty," I agreed. "Here and now?"
"Not on a bet, dear," said d. "I meant Fuck me, it's cold..."
"Mmm," I said, not quite ready to let go of the idea. "They say things work better when they're cold..."
"You maybe," said d, knotting the string in my pants extra tight as if to permanently seal the deal. "Me...notsomuch! Besides, I have one word for you..."
"Yeah?"
"Shrinkage."
"Point taken," I said, picking up the bags again.

Didn't rearrange the office as I'd planned today - we learned fairly early that our now-usual Sunday car boot sale had been all sorts of cancelled tomorrow, probably for fear of freezing people to death in the unheated chapel hall that is the venue. So we have all of tomorrow to do stuff to the apartment, and no gym appointments to attend.

Of course, all of this nonsense was on the backdrop of Merthyr Snow. Normally, on the 4th of February, we're busy dealing with Western New York Snow. Proper, ass-kicking, seriously-you-people-need-to-take-the-hint-that-weather-hates-you Snow. Because, every previous year, tomorrow, February 5th, we've tried to be over there for the celebration of d's mom's birthday. I'm not at all sure how we'll mark the occasion tomorrow. Guess we'll just take the day as it comes. I'd be lying if I said I missed the Healthcare Centre where she lived for the last handful of her years, but Lori and Dom, American food stores, American diners....goddamnsonofabitch pizza subs...Ahhh...I have a relatively new overdraft facility...hmmm...