I just stepped on the scales.
In the bathroom, there are ... well, bathroom scales.
I don't stand on them much. They're just ... there. Keeping guard over that corner of the bathroom.
And, they've done a good job, too. No terrorists have attacked us from that corner of the bathroom. Still on Yellow Alert, though, just in case.
Anyway, I turned on the hot water (got an old water heater that we turn on when we shower, and off when we're done), and readied to take a shower. I mean, it is bedtime.
But, being the silly person I am, I looked over at the scales and ... wondered.
I made a mental note of what the number would be. And I didn't like the number I expected. I'm overweight, and know it.
So, with number firmly planted in my brain, I stepped on the scales.
That wasn't the number I was expecting. That number was on the wrong side of the little dial. I'd have to go on a serious crash diet to get near that number.
I was stunned.
Probably shouldn't have been, though.
But now I know.
And I've taken steps to correct it.
I've directed that all food ... and living animals that could be turned into food ... be removed from the property.
I am swearing off eating unti ... oh ... say ... December 21, 2012. I ought to be down to 185 (my "ideal" weight) by then.
If the world's still around on that day, I'll have a bran muffin.
And a Coke.