|Two strong and controversial women, looking like they were perhaps separated at birth. Anything is possible.|
So far it's taken the best part of three days to clean and paint the front of the house, stonework, windows and various odd bits. It's something of a test. My will and fitness levels v the sticky smell of paint and most worryingly, working at heights carrying paint and brushes whilst wobbling. The good news is I'm near the final stages and can look back on some completed work and (what now seems more important) a series of high scores on the Fitbit. The Fitbit is a medieval torture device updated for today's self obsessed digital generation of exercising weirdos. It that tracks all your moves and nuances as if you were some kind of sex offender under constant monitoring. At the end of each day a compelling set of data is available for you to enjoy or recoil in horror from. So three days of house painting, fetching, carrying and going up and down ladders = great joy and inner peace because the numbers are so good and the graphs are like the New York skyline.
An alternative workout, just sitting on your arse drinking beer and watching box-sets results in abject humiliation and feeble scores that make you look like an inactive slug dowsed in heroin. What's not to like then? Today more painting, tomorrow some driving but lots of hill walking, the day after walking and cycling a bit more. Live long and prosper and just feed positive data to that hungry Fitbit.