Paying the stupid tax

For several years I have had a really basic heart rate monitor. When in my exercising cycles I have used it religiously, always looping the chest strap through the watch and hanging it in the same place.

Until I didn’t. Now the watch has been missing for several months, sometime during a not-exercising-much-at-all period the chest strap migrated to where M keeps his, because that’s where they dry, he says. Hanging it from hook in the bathroom apparently was not drying it satisfactorily. Or something.

Now my watch reader is missing, and after turning the house upside down today looking for it I believe it is gone for good. I do not absolutely NEED one … my arc trainer tells me where my heart rate is very generally with the chest strap and very specifically if I clasp it’s sensors … but I feel like I really, Really, REALLY want the watch to know exactly how hard I am working at a glance. It’s my own little crutch. If I have to exercise, if I am going to set and keep this yearly goal, I want my instant gratification of knowing where I am in the cardio zone while doing my time.

So onto Amazon I went and ordered a new one. It was $54.71 with tax, so not the end of the world, but money I wish I was not spending. It will also be here on Monday; gotta love Amazon prime’s 2-day delivery service.

But I know what will happen. I will get home on Monday, set-up my new HR monitor, either do my workout with it or plan to use it with Tuesday’s workout, when I will find the missing watch. I just know it. Either that or precisely after enough time has passed that I cannot return the one I just ordered it will magically appear somewhere. This is how it always happens to me.

Until it happens, though, I’m glad the replacement is on its way. This time, I will put it somewhere out of M’s reach, because I’m just sure he absconded with the other one and has just forgotten doing it. These things happen in this household.

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