I prefer to be sedentary, thank you.

For some reason I hate this term, but will use it begrudgingly: Yesterday I "worked out" for the first time in about six months.

"Working out" conjures up images of buff, spandex-clad mens and womens sweating. Usually when if I exercise I am in a dorky t-shirt and basketball shorts. I also try not to sweat under any circumstance as doing so turns me into a grumpalump.

My roommate, who "works out" regularly (eh it's giving me tinglies even writing it), does these Exercise TV videos on demand. Usually I just lay on the couch and watch the videos while she bounces around and contracts her abs or whatever, but I was feeling good yesterday. I decided to exploit that energetic mood and pay for it today.

We did some cardio yoga thing that was hosted by this guy who you would have thought was Australian looking at him until he opened his beautiful curly-headed head and he was American. He was very pleasant to exercise with and kept telling me that I could do it, so I did.

Result- I hurt here:

The baby toe is actually the result of my clumsiness, not cute Exercise TV guy. He was actually very graceful and I did my best to imitate him. He kept telling me while I was bent over with all my weight on my right fingertips, "Look up if you can, it's harder to balance." I only leaned on the couch for support once and fell over only twice.

Anyway, this morning I was walking my five block path to work and I turned a corner too sharply and stepped on the pointy concrete side of a building. Yes, I'm not really sure how I managed to step UP a wall, but I did. I heard something like a twig snapping, did a little hoppy scream and limped the rest of the way.

My baby toe is swollen and uglier than usual now that the nail is all fucked up and the skin scraped off a little. It's been almost five hours since this happened so I think I might have broken it.

Anyway, my sonufabitch boss keeps making me get up to do stupid shit that would actually be easier for HIM to complete.

Example 1: "Hey! This copy machine is clogged! Come fix it!"

Twice within twenty minutes, I have had to use my injured toe and throbbing thighs to go open two copier compartment doors and close them while he watches. The blinking diagram is apparently too hard for a man with a JD to understand.

Example 2: "HEY! Where is I Sue Everyone's file!"

"To your right."

"I don't see it."

"On the surface to your right. Look down. No, right."

"I can't find it."

Here, let me stop typing and answering the phones so I can get up and point to it for you.

My boss is unbelievably dependent on me to do the simplest things.

Can he dial a phone? No. I am the only phone dialer around here. Can he date a document? No. Only I know the date and am capable of transcribing it. Will he ever, ever, ever pull a file out of the cabinet that he is at least ten feet closer to than I am? He may or may not know the alphabet. I'm unsure.