Last week, Flea and I joined some gym because apparently she has this crazy notion that typing and drinking diet sodas doesn't burn enough calories. Two nights ago, we made our first trip and I spent about a half hour on some inclined treadmill thingie and then played with some weight machines and whatnot. I even walked a few laps to try to cool down.
Yesterday, good as gold. Right as rain. Fit as a fiddle. So on and so forth.
This morning, holy Mother of Sacred Saints, I think that leprechauns came into my room last night and beat the fuck out of me with their little oaken shillelaghs while I was sleeping. Either that or I need to stop working out and Flea wouldn't be having any of that so I'm sticking with my leprechaun story.