Mouse on a Wheel

So, I seem to have an obsession about mice. Sorry, but this metaphor occurred to me as I was deliberating about what's interesting enough in my life to blog about. Nottalotta, but I did buy a treadmill this weekend. I'm not super thrilled about running in my basement since it's dark, dank, dingy, and depressing. I'll even take a cue from my friend, Dorothy, here and say it's a little like Silence of the Lambs--you know, the scene where Clarice goes into the basement and it's all dark and scary and the killer guy is wearing nightvision goggles? Dorothy used to say her basement at This Old House was the Silence of the Lambs basement. Now that they don't live there anymore, I feel the torch has passed so to speak, and now we have the basement with the crumbly walls and musty horribleness.

But, if running on a treadmill will help me be buff and ubersexy, then so be it. I might lie and say it's because it's good for my health to get some aerobic exercise, but the truth is I've always wanted to be a hot, athletic-looking person. So I'll run a little to make the insides of my thighs hurt, and I'll do the laundry while I'm down there. Double the pleasure.

Back to the mouse metaphor, the whole thought of running in place is, of course, much like a mouse on a wheel. I used to have pet mice when I was in junior high, and they would run for what seemed like hours on end. And the wheel would screech. And they'd jump off and chug some water from their water bottle. And they'd get back on and run and run and run. Sometimes they'd wear out a little and stop, but the wheel would keep going, and the mouse would be clinging to the wheel as it finished a revolution or two. And sometimes another mouse would be on the outside of the wheel while one was running, and it would inevitably roll to the bottom and then climb back up on top for one more round. My cat, Jetta, who is now a very elderly 19-year-old, could watch the mice for hours. And she'd sit there and hit at their cage, trying to figure out a way in. She never did, but it was highly entertaining to watch her.

Ever since I started running on treadmills a few years ago, I've worried that I would fall down and the treadmill would keep going. It's not a pretty mental image, but I'm a huge klutz, so anything is possible. Since we have basement windows, it's not impossible to think that the neighbors might watch me on the treadmill. I hope to God they don't tap on them while I'm running, because that would scare the shit out of me.