Monday, October 11, 2004
Old enough to know better, Too hot to care
I took an ill-advised run at 11 am today, and decided to do the scenic route - 6 km instead of the customary 2.4 km.
At the 3 km mark I began to feel very odd indeed. It didn't take a genius to recognise the signs of early heat exhaustion, so I sat down for five minutes, felt better, finished the next 3 km (including a sprint up the hill, since for some reason I always feel compelled to charge up hills now when I see them...) and had 1.5 L of water to drink in one long gulp at home. Felt instantly well again after. Just goes to show... this country is too damn hot and humid. They ought to rename it Sweatfromeverypore.
Some time later, while I was playing Bach's Air on a G string (now that sounds decidedly dodgy) on the piano (even dodgier...) my mom wandered in and inadvertently revealed an integral housekeeping secret which explains a LOT about the clothes I grew up wearing (hand me downs from my brother, usually rather drab, occasionally slightly threadbare) which helped contribute to my belief of the myth they built up around me that the family was grovelling in the depths of poverty... just living in a nice house, no big deal... etc.
It's one of the basic tenets of homekeeping that even a swinging bachelor like myself (is forced to get to...) knows :
1) when washing clothes, whites and colours do not mix. (Book of Re-minisce, ch 12 v 1, Bachelorship for dummies)
We've seen it a million times in movies like Spiderman, and... any show involving a single man. Heck, all us blokes have probably "accidentally" done it at least once in our lives thanks to going on the piss the night before, or a fit of absent-mindedness, or trying to get all that washing bundled into the machine 2 min before going to work.
My mum's ingenious solution over the years to this inconvenience is, apparently :
1) THROW OUT ALL THE CLOTHES WITH COLOURS THAT WILL RUN. (Book of mum, Revelations ch 1 v 3)
Gah.
At the 3 km mark I began to feel very odd indeed. It didn't take a genius to recognise the signs of early heat exhaustion, so I sat down for five minutes, felt better, finished the next 3 km (including a sprint up the hill, since for some reason I always feel compelled to charge up hills now when I see them...) and had 1.5 L of water to drink in one long gulp at home. Felt instantly well again after. Just goes to show... this country is too damn hot and humid. They ought to rename it Sweatfromeverypore.
Some time later, while I was playing Bach's Air on a G string (now that sounds decidedly dodgy) on the piano (even dodgier...) my mom wandered in and inadvertently revealed an integral housekeeping secret which explains a LOT about the clothes I grew up wearing (hand me downs from my brother, usually rather drab, occasionally slightly threadbare) which helped contribute to my belief of the myth they built up around me that the family was grovelling in the depths of poverty... just living in a nice house, no big deal... etc.
It's one of the basic tenets of homekeeping that even a swinging bachelor like myself (is forced to get to...) knows :
1) when washing clothes, whites and colours do not mix. (Book of Re-minisce, ch 12 v 1, Bachelorship for dummies)
We've seen it a million times in movies like Spiderman, and... any show involving a single man. Heck, all us blokes have probably "accidentally" done it at least once in our lives thanks to going on the piss the night before, or a fit of absent-mindedness, or trying to get all that washing bundled into the machine 2 min before going to work.
My mum's ingenious solution over the years to this inconvenience is, apparently :
1) THROW OUT ALL THE CLOTHES WITH COLOURS THAT WILL RUN. (Book of mum, Revelations ch 1 v 3)
Gah.
