Every Little Helps. 

Inspired by David Sedaris’ article in the New Yorker of yesterblog, I acquired a Fitbit at the big Tesco on Thursday with my Clubcard points. The irony of this is not lost on me. These are the same Clubcard points I earned buying kettle chips, vodka and gossip magazines. Every little helps, right enough. I bet David Sedaris didn’t use his Clubcard points to buy his. 

I’m obsessed already, and proclaiming evangelically “THIS” I say while tapping the gizmo on my chubby wrist to make the wee lights flash “THIS little guy has changed my life”. Bold claim, that, since I once said the same thing about a mini deep fat fryer and look at me now, “no a pun o’ me hingin’ the right wye” as my granny used to say. 

I went for the basic model rather than the deluxe does-everything-short-of-doing-your-ironing one; I don’t need the added stress of monitoring my heartbeat as I’d only hyperfocus and think I was dying. I know my heart rate increases the minute I’m within a thirty mile radius of a Greggs, I don’t need an app to tell me that. 

Yesterday was my first full day of Fitbitting and it filled my day nicely. I was determined to achieve the recommended 10,000 steps, and even asked Les to wear it while she took Tucker out for a Glesgae widdle, so she could rack up some points on my behalf. She declined “It’s no a Tesco Clubcard doll”

Here! Observe my stats! 

But…on the downside…check my sleep…

 Restless 12 times and 4 hours sleep! I love sleeping! I’m not one of those freaks who doesn’t nap or yawn. I imagine there are freaks in the world who don’t need much sleep and just stand upright in a cupboard for seven hours a night waiting silently for morning to come but I’m not one of them. What sleep I did have last night was peppered with fevered dreams thus:  Steve Davis the snooker player was in it and he bought me a thing for my car. Then I had to sleep outside and Steve and I made a camp fire. Not a fire that went “Ooohhh shut that door” like gay seventies TV icon Larry Grayson but a fire, outside. Then the police came and pissed on my chips (figuratively not literally although anything’s possible in my weirdarse dreams at the moment) and made me put the fire out. 

Footnote apropos of shit-all: had a lovely dinner with great folk last night, lovingly prepared lovingly by lovely Jason, longtime friend of the lovely Fabulous One, and quite possibly one of the funniest and loveliest people I’ve ever met. Hiya Jason love! Tucker is very remorseful about your nose. :-/


6 thoughts on “Every Little Helps. 

  1. Oh Lindsey I love your blog! I’ve just ordered the same Fitbit from Amazon, so I’ll be looking forward to hearing how you’re getting on with it. I’m sitting on the sofa thinking I don’t have to move until it arrives, because obviously no activity has any effect unless it’s electronically recorded.
    It’s arrival might trigger the use of other neglected gadgets: nutribullet and digital scales to name but two …


    Liked by 1 person

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