Okay, well it wasn’t the voice of The Mud calling my name yesterday after all.
It was the voice of my truck’s almost dead battery, calling for help.
I haven’t ever hooked up the jumper cable thingies and done that myself. I called my dad. But couldn’t reach him. So then I waved off the help of two strangers in pickups* and did it myself.
Battery charged, I had only enough time for mild mud action before taking an abs class. The abs class killed me. The abs class made me want my bunny pajama pants.
I’d completely forgotten about my weird, deformed rib. And then that abs class killed it with some reverse crunches and now it is bruised and sore and I’ll probably never forget it again. But that’s okay. Because I’ll never forget and do reverse crunch things again, either.
*strangers in pickups will ALWAYS stop and try to help you here. It’s West Texas. That’s what they do. I want nothing to do with strangers in pickups right now. Particularly if they’re cute. And one of them was definitely cute, so I frantically waved him off and got rid of him even faster than I waved off the next stranger in a pickup, who looked pretty creepy. Creepy I can deal with if I have to – cute, no WAY, get thee BACK with your chivalrous self, man.