As anyone who read my last entry knows, I like to work out. It's something calming, something I control, and it is therapeutic in ways nothing else is in my life. So during today's lunchtime, I strolled out past our garden to our garage. I offhandedly noted that Kevin had been working on the garden, and caught the barest scent of the chicken manure he'd used in his raised beds. No biggie. It wasn't too bad, and I was raised on a farm - I had smelled far worse.

I started my workout in our detached garage, the door open letting in the sun that had gloriously appeared. About five minutes in, I begin to sweat profusely, panting with exertion, and happy to be in command of my body - moving, and putting myself through my paces.

That's when I also noticed that lovely chicken manure odor was just a bit stronger.

Huh. Must be from the sun warming things up. No biggie.

I keep going.

Another five minutes go by, and I am truly pushing my limits. I'm in my happy place, heart thudding above 150 beats a minute, the concrete of the garage spattered with sweat. And that odor is now stronger and omnipresent.

Oh, man. I hold my hand over my belly during my first break. Trying to moderate your breath so you don't gasp in lungfuls of chicken perfume while in a cardio challenge is not easy. And I alternate between gagging and gasping. Then I begin to laugh at my idiotic situation. Oh. Break over, time to start on the next set of exercises.

I suffered another thirty minutes, somehow managing to avoid hurling. All the while I'm both laughing, and cursing at my husband.

Anyway, I just wanted to share in the hopes you too can laugh at my expense.