Last night’s tomfoolery didn’t abate until about 8 this morning, when, after I gave up on trying to sleep with La Serpiente thrashing around on the parental bed, trying to distract my wife from feeding Butterball Destroyer, I went and slept in my daughter’s cot. I had ten minutes of blissful slumber before my wife woke me up and made me go to work.
Fortunately, I had booked myself onto a spinning class this lunchtime, which I figured would be a good way to add a bit of energy to my afternoon.
Except it was the most brutal spinning class I think I’ve ever done.
There’s been quite a few different instructors in the last few months, but today’s, Amanda, brought things to a whole new level of exertion. I think for almost the entire 45 minutes we were being made to pedal standing up, constantly exhorted to pedal harder and add more resistance. Once or twice I couldn’t even cope, and sunk down onto the saddle, legs incapable of bringing me back up. In the darkness of the spinning studio, your shame is invisible. Until you look up and see yourself in the mirror.
It was a full class today. Well, until somebody actually gave up and walked out, ten minutes into it. That is either some guide to how hard it was, or it shows that people don’t have much staying power. Who’s to say? I didn’t come top of the leaderboard, which was a huge blow to my ego, and then I staggered out of the class, drenched with sweat, and didn’t stop sweating for an hour afterwards. Which must have been pleasant for everyone around me in the office.
This is what children do. They destroy your aerobic fitness.
This evening, La Serpiente went to sleep in half an hour, clearly not fancying another marathon screaming and "tuddles!" epic, for which I was very glad. I made the most of the evening by getting my wife to phone Air Canada to try to get Destroyer’s ticket sorted out.
This was great fun. The first Air Canada customer service agent, as soon as we told her that Expedia had told us we had to call the airline, said "unbelievable!" and then transferred us to an Expedia customer service agent in the Philippines, without telling us. Hilarity ensued. It turns out that both Air Canada and Expedia’s customer service reps have a note in their manuals saying that the other one is the one who should sort things out. This could have gone on forever if my wife hadn’t had a second, firebreathing call with Air Canada, and about fifteen minutes later we had our ticket for our little one sorted. So at least we’re getting closer to getting closer to home. I’m not sure if Air Canada are going to give us another ridiculous baggage allowance for our little one or not though…