Stairs.

My legs are screaming from bootcamp today.

I'm waiting on an Amazon package and because I was an IDIOT and made my office in the basement, I have taken the sprint of death through a sea of spilled legos and up the stairs three times for nothing. Cardio is a bitch with a sense of humor.

Also, because I am a piss-poor planner, I made it all the way downstairs with everything I needed for the afternoon in tow, EXCEPT for my filled water bottle. And because I made a self-commitment to drink 91 ounces of water a day, I felt tremendous guilt leaving it behind.

Back up the stairs. This is time number 4, in case you have forgotten.

My PERSONAL favorite was when I had to pee. (See above, I'm drinking 91 ounces of water, my eyeballs are practically floating.) Now, I'm sore and in no position to rush anywhere at the moment. So imagine my reaction when I went into my bathroom to see that Miles had unrolled all of the remaining toilet paper like a freaking cat and stuffed it into the dirty trash can.

It was then, and only then, that I remembered I kept extra toilet paper upstairs in my linen closet...on the third floor. I'm telling you people, decisions were ALMOST made. But I made my fifth and sixth treks up the stairs, fetched the toilet paper and made it safely back down to my office.

I'm not going to lie though, the thought of sitting on my fat ass and sliding down the stairs crossed my mind on more than one occasion.