Friday, August 30, 2013
My Husb., a biology teacher, has been reading about the cardiovascular and mental health ills of sitting. He puts down the paper with the headline Sitting Will Kill You and Someone You Love and eyes me as a potential research subject and I am like a woodland deer in the sights of a deer scientist, I'm stalk still, trying to blend in to the nap of the armchair.
I sit a lot. That's an understatement. Everything I do can be done from an armchair. And that's the way I thought I had gamed the system, stuck it to the man, Look Ma! I might never have to rely on my vertebral column to do a damn thing!
However this habitual sluggish state and posture of mine like a closed fist has no doubt contributed to the chronic anxiety and malaise that is my 40s, so my husband, wanting to help, found a cast-off NordicTrack, some plywood, an old monitor, sundry bolts, and over the course of 48 hours under a thick blue haze of unprintable curse words that imply the working on a task of future glory he MacGuyvered me a Walking Desk.
And from it I wrote this, while sweating and walking, recovering my birthright as a human: to be Upright, among the beasts.