September 1st

So marks my return to the blogging world. For those of you who are concerned with such matters, I am alive and healthy. Well, I'm certainly alive, anyway. Those unfortunate few who saw my last soccer game would have every right to laugh at my inistence that I'm healthy. A grown adult should never have to utter the phrase "stop the ball for a second, let me catch me breathe." 

You might be wondering what I've been up to in the intervening days since my last blog post. No? Okay, well for those of you who don't care, here's an awesome picture which pretty much sums it all up.

As I alluded to before I've been "playing" for an out of shape football team every week. The problem I find with playing on a pub team is that you get 90 minutes of good exercise in and then conclude the evening with a few pints of Guiness, therefore nullifying the effect of the night's exercise. Isn't that how catch 22 works? Or irony?

While we were sitting together at the pub, one of my friends showed me the pictures from the last game. She somehow managed to make it appear as if I were running in almost every one. My teammates were as surprised as I was. "What kind of setting is this and can I have it for my life?" I asked.

My physical abilities were tested even further last Sunday when a friend of mine asked me and a few of the other guys to help him move. I hate helping people move. Yet, I've done it often enough to become some sort of Grand Master at it. I don't know what it is, but fate keeps leading me in the direction of people that need help moving.

So there I was, on a cold, wet Sunday morning discussing with three other guys the best way to lift a fridge. The move took hours and hours. Mainly, because the host kept opening doors to more rooms each with heavier and more awkward to move items in them. "And here's the room where I store all my ballroom chandeliers and pissed off Komodo Dragons. Lift with your knees, boys."

It was like the moving house edition of Narnia. He would open wardrobes that were inexplicably full of other wardrobes and furniture. Sadly there was not a talking lion in sight. I think if you're going to ask me to help you move, a talking lion is the least you should offer. The day ended quite well though, as we all sat together in the now empty shell of a family home and he discussed with us his memories of the house. Oh, but now I have to get him a housewarming gift for his new place. Does it ever end?

So that's a quick update of the last few weeks in my world.

In conclusion, I'm still alive.