Almost three weeks ago I pledged to myself to walk for an hour every day, to not drink alcohol and not eat bread for a self imposed month of torture to get back into my jeans and to also get back on the horse and attend my first ever riding session at the local Standardbred Riding Group.
Walking - check.
No Alcohol - check minus one day of rolling around under a wagon.
No Bread - check.
Fitting in the jeans again - huge check. I can only just wear them without being charged with public indecency.
Registering for Standardbred Riding Group - non-check
Getting back in the Saddle - non check.
Oh well, I had resigned myself to delaying joining the SRG for ANOTHER month. All well and good. EXCEPT that the Rally Organizer caught me out at my new place of employment. Her Mother-in Law is a resident of the facility that I work at and came in to visit her. The lovely rally organiser had me bailed up against the wall promising that I would register with the riding group by handing in my forms and monies on Thursday at her place of employment AND attend the monthly meeting this Friday night AND attending Standardbred riding group on Saturday the 25th of June.
If I still worked in the Big Smoke this never would have happened, our paths would never have crossed and I would have had another month of procrastination.
That is living and working in little country towns for you.
You think that you might be able to run, but you certainly cannot hide.