Exercise, and washing my clothes

The weather was finally nice enough today to attempt some exercise.  There is a park next to my apartment, so I decided to run a couple laps around it.  My original goal was 3, but I think I misjudged the relative size of the park.  It took about 8-10 mins to do one lap, so after 2 my lungs were on fire, so I decided to finish it off with a couple pullups and sprints in one area of the park. It really isn't fair how quickly endurance goes out the window, but I suppose it's fair seeing as I've done nothing but walk, stand, and talk slowly for the past 20 days.  In the park, they have a bunch of ridiculous workout machines; most of them operate on a pivot, and they involve swinging your body back and forth like a pendulum. (I'll post pictures at some point)  Honestly, I don't think any of them work, because the only people who use these machines in the park are fat, and wearing their normal street clothes.  It's like they heard that "exercising" is this fad where everybody just sort of does actions that they don't normally do, and without and effort they'll all become Mr./Mrs. Atlas (oh hi, dated reference).

I went to the supermarket after work yesterday, but realized that I had forgotten a few things, so I ended up going back today.  In my basket, I had a bag of oranges, tomato sauce, dishwashing detergent, a stick of salami, and a 6-pack of beer.  Between this and the confused look on my face when anybody talked to me, I'm sure that everybody at that grocery store wondered how I've made it this far from home without my drool bib and adult diapers.

I'm also currently washing my clothes for the first time since arriving.  I had to use my spanish-english dictionary to understand most of the functions on the machine, which I'm sure would have been a funny site.  I know I'd crack up if I saw somebody reading a dictionary while standing over a washing machine.  Fortunately I won't have to use my translating skills for the dryer, because the dryer around here is the good old clothesline and aire libre.  Also, I've started the inevitable countdown for when a piece of my clothing falls off the line and I have to knock on the downstairs neighbors door, and clunkily explain that I need to see their patio.

Ok, back to learning Spanish.