As I’m trying to re-establish my gym routine after the unfortunate pulled-off-my-toenail incident that necessitated a several weeks off until the toenail finished separating from my toe and stopped hurting like a sonofagun when I put socks or shoes on, I went to the pool this morning. I was in a rush to get out as I have a busy day ahead of me, and there were two old hens bitching about the class.

H1: It’s always the same thing now, at least! Before, there were different leaders trying to make us do different things!

H2: They sometimes had *volunteers* teaching it! The horror!

H1: I KNOW!! And it’s way better now that the class isn’t full anymore! More room for me!

This might be paraphrased slightly; still if it wasn’t gauche to wear pearls in a public swimming pool, I’m certain these two woulda been clutching theirs. But I was getting increasingly angry listening to them. You know that if no one comes because they can’t get into the limited classes that they have fewer classes, right? And that the YMCA doesn’t run without volunteers, right? And that when you do the same thing overandoverandoverandover…. your muscles get used to it and you don’t actually get the gains you think you are, right??

Grumpy old birds, I thought, grumpily. And the irony of that isn’t lost on me.

So, friends, it’s time for a musical re-baseline.