Classic 6K on a Friday

This has to be my favourite day of the week so far. No school, Little Britain marathon on Netflix (that could be any day, I suppose) and best of all, it's not raining at the moment! I set off on my usual hill route. That's right, pretty much all of my runs involve a hill or two. I live on a hill. These 2 idiots Jack and Jill are always coming up here looking for water. Shove it, Jack!

South down Boundary Road I go, past the car dealerships with all their cars and sadness, then I hang a right on East 1st, climbing up the 1.5km hill to Renfrew, where I touch my lucky lamp post and turn around, down the hill and left on Boundary, back up the hill. There goes Jackie boy again, looks like he broke his crown, and you guessed it, his lady friend is tumbling after him like a raving lunatic. Typical.

After finishing up my run, I decide to do a little abdominal workout. All those delicious Halloween chocolate bars my roommate's parents gave him for Christmas (huh?) have done a number on my mid-section, so I'd better throw in a few crunches. Nobody likes a guy with moobs, so I added a few dozen pushups. That's good for today, I think.

You might be surprised to know that not everything I do revolves around running. In fact, I like to play the bass guitar and sing now and then. I'm not very good, but when my roommate jumps on the drums, we invent this make-believe band called "20 Questions". The whole idea is that he'll think of something, an object, a person, etc and I'll keep playing the same riff over and over, asking him questions, to which he replies with a positive or negative response. I happened to look out the window and saw an eagle.

"Is it an eagle?" I sing magestically.
"No, it's not an eagle," he retorts, almost as magestically, but not quite.
"Is it a robin red-breast?" I sing triumphantly, thinking it must be so.
For some reason (probably booze-related), my roommate cracks up at this line, not able to answer. I ask again.
"Is it a robin red-breast?"
Only this time, he replies with the same question.
"Is it a robin red-breast?"
"Is it a robin red-breast?"
You know when a record starts skipping, and you're just too lazy/intrigued to get up and change it? That's us. We must have sang "Is it a robin red-breast?' 100 times or more, adding harmonies, both high and low. By the end, we're laughing so hard we can hardly play our instruments. This fun lasted for about 20 minutes or so. I looked out the window and saw someone walk up the street, stop, give a confused look towards our house, then cross the street and continue walking, looking back in horror. Yeah, we're that house. We make this block interesting, and dammit, we like that about ourselves. You might think we're weird, you might think we're creative, but dammit, we're not on drugs and I don't even drink anymore. How's that for a glimpse into my brain, eh? Scary.

Okay, tomorrow is a rest day, but after that I'll be back to writing about running, I swear. Unless I finally figure out the answer to this 20 questions thing. There might be an album in the works.