Exercise sucks.

Yeah, I know all about the health benefits and about how my clothes will fit better and my skin will look better and I'll be able to step up on the curb without getting winded.

Exercise still sucks.

The cable has been shut off, right? Dandy. Although I didn't much care for the cable dude sneaking out to my house and cutting the cable during a snowstorm while we were out to breakfast, and the girl who answered the phone number scrawled on a "sorry we missed you" note was COMPLETELY useless as far as help goes, I am pleased to be out from under a monthly payment of thirty bucks that averages out to fifteeen dollars per channel that we actually watch.

"Hi, my cable was cut off. What's my back payment?"

"Gee, I don't know. We don't have access to that information."

A pause while I pondered this.

"Okay. How much will it cost to get it turned back on?"

"Oh, I can't tell you that. You'd have to call the office."

"I thought this was the office. This is the number on the card that was stuck in my door."

"No, this is the help center."

Another pause while I considered the effectiveness of sarcasm as a weapon.

"Ooookay. So, what's the number to the office?"

"Well, I'll tell you, but it doesn't matter because they're not open today."

The odd crackling on the line was not static, but my teeth grinding together. I nearly shouted at the poor girl who was, I guess, only doing her job. I settled for a vaguely polite mumble and hung up, convinced that we didn't really need cable anyway. Food is a much bigger priority. I can also buy a lot of diapers for thirty bucks a month.

Himself took the news that we would now be TV-free in stride, but pointed out that we still needed to pay the back bill. No problem. As soon as I got paid, I would pop Junior into his stroller and head over.

Hm? Well, I would walk because Himself would be using the functional vehicle. He is one of the four people back at the quarry, but we are not celebrating until we know that it's really-really open. Shhhhhh...

The appointed day arrived and we set out. Birds were singing and squirrels were squirrelling. Junior and I enjoyed a running commentary on All Things Interesting, all the way to the...

FORMER cable office.

"We have moved!"

You. Have. Got. To. Be. Kidding.

I muttered something foul and turned the stroller around. A twelve-block trip with thirty pounds of kid and a bad knee for el zilcho. Okay, so I got a good dose of Vitamin D and some togetherness with Junior, but JEEZ! I wanted to accomplish a specific errand, not get in some crappy good-for-me exercise. Stupid cable place.

The next day, I was prepared. I had the new address and TWO potential errands to run in addition to the cable fiasco. It was to be an eighteen-block hike and I was ready. Crunchy bites and sippies at hand, Junior and I set out at just past nine.

We made it to the doctor's office, where I explained that I was suffering from Mom-worry and would there be an opening in the next few years for someone to look at Junior's ears because he kept pulling on them?

We were ushered into an exam room fifteen minutes later. Our doctor is awesome, and Junior's ears are fine. It's his two new incoming molars that are causing him grief. Across the hall at the County Clinic, the nurse practitioner and I discussed Juniors immunization needs while he gave the bead roller-coaster a workout. Gotta make one of those; they're awesome.

Back on the street, we darted across to the new cable office and walked all the way around the building as directed by the "please use other door" sign. I grasped the handle, pleased that my quest was nearly at an end.

Rattle. Rattle, rattle. Locked. The letters "WTH" crawled across my face. I peeked at the hours notice. Closed from noon to one. Consulting my phone clock, I could see that it was only 11:03. I peered through the door. Where was everybody?

I tilted my head back in preparation for a good scream and saw a piece of paper. Placed well above the line-of-sight for Your Average Short Person, it announced that the office was closed for a week. Sorry for the inconvenience. Phbbt.

I'm pretty sure I lost my mind at that point. I vaguely remember spinning around and yelling to the random stranger crossing the nearby parking lot that I was going to burn down the cable office and they could come to my house to collect their stupid check because I was NOT doing this again. He replied with some words to the effect of, "I'll bring the matches".

I muttered more foul words. Junior giggled and offered me one of his crunchies. We negotiated the crossing and headed for home. The bill and the checkbook are on the table, just waiting.

Exercise sucks.