This evening at the YMCA, I climbed on the treadmill and cranked her up. Then I poked the TV power button, flicked the channel changer around, and came to rest on The Jetsons. This looks good. I did finally remember that I could watch whatever I wanted.
(So I found Andrew Zimmern NOT eating stinky, fermented fish eggs. Belly laugh. A couple of looks from my treadmill neighbors. I’ll bet I could get those fish eggs down. I’ll bet they are really healthy.)
Do you ever forget you don’t have to meet George Jetson?