Weekend Late Shift/Monday Morning

Last night, the clients were very tired and I needed to help them retire in order to get adequate rest.  My long-time client, the Blonde, was shrieking and sobbing alternately.  The newest client, the Brunette, was yelling at me loudly for ice cream, which was a 30 minute car ride away.  Fortunately, the Ginger had moved into his morose state.

I calmly encouraged the clients to prepare for a tour in the car, as this often helps them collect their wits or fall asleep. Moving them from the car into their beds is a bit of a chore, but often preferable to trying to manage them as they wind down for bed. They very loudly expressed their disinterest in this plan, at which point, I provided an alternative: retiring immediately.  The Blonde was still crying and moaning because she had made plans to spend the night with a colleague, but she had neglected to check her schedule with me. I had to inform her that this late meeting would not work with her schedule. She was able to contain her displeasure until we left her colleague's home, but commenced to wailing once we stepped outside.

Fortunately, all of the clients were able to get adequate rest last night and are now lounging in front of a fire. The Blonde decided upon waking that she wanted a fire in the fireplace. I heard her telling the Ginger to work on me if he wanted a fire. The Ginger immediately came to find me in the kitchen, asking loudly for a fire. He borrowed a favorite phrase from the Blonde and said, "I'll do anything!" Instead of rolling my eyes like I wanted to, I decided to take him up on his offer.

"Twenty push-ups," I said. And suddenly, I was wearing a genuine smile. The wood was much closer than I had realized, so the fire was no big deal.

The Ginger told the Blonde about the stipulation, so she got down on the floor in front of the fireplace and started. Her butt was in the air and her push-ups were a little lack-luster, but I said nothing. She insisted that I leave the room to get wood ASAP, but by looking through the wall of windows, I noticed that she shorted me on push-ups. I should have known that the Ginger would report. He let me know that the Blonde had done too few push-ups and even demonstrated her less-than-textbook technique. She immediately became defensive. I just smiled and told her I wasn't mad. I then reminded my client of five years, the Ginger, that it was his turn. He surprised me with 20 slow push-ups in excellent form. He got through 11 without stopping and did the other nine in the same minute.

The Blonde has taken charge of hot chocolate production and distribution.  The Ginger is walking around without pants, and the Brunette without a shirt.

Am planning to ask clients if I may take a break for exercise soon. They are not always supportive. Fingers crossed.