Exercise releases the stress in your life, unless it is opposite day.

I went back to the gym on Friday night, for the first time since October. That brings the total number of times I have taken advantage of my membership to six. Five times in October, and one time in February. So let's see, that would make my per visit cost to be about $25. Stop it, inner accountant, let it go.

So for my $25 dollars, I have been subjected to the humiliation of seeing myself in all the mirrors. The horror and terror, I am pretty sure I saw a small child cry and run away. At least I am sure it would have if it wasn't being entertained at the play room.

I think if I ever own a gym, there will be a no mirror rule. Or better yet, the mirrors should be magical and show you what you will look like if you continue to come to the gym, because then when you see yourself at home, you would jump in the car and go to the gym to see your self the way you could be.

Or maybe for that much money, they could provide me with a blindfold and guide dog to get me from the dressing room to the machines in the women's gym. Or better yet, how about a conveyor belt like they have in airports. I think it is so rude to make people walk to where they are going to be exercising. We should just be able to ride along and jump off where we want to start our work out.

In addition to humiliation, as an added bonus, I get to have TMI (too much information) in the form of what color thong underwear the person exercising in front of me is wearing, because her sweats keep falling down. Or if she bends over to stretch. Again with the horror and terror. Seriously there should be a law or something. Can I get an amen sister? Talk about a bang for your buck. Eeeewww.

Then there is the annoying part when you can't get one of the machines that has a TV on it and lets you pick the channel you want to watch, so you can numb your senses about the fact that you are exercising. Instead, you are stuck with the four TV choices that are up on the wall. These consist of MTV, Comedy Channel, Fox News, or discovery channel showing Dirty Jobs. I would much rather watch the food channel while I am exercising. Might as well plan what you deserve to eat because you exercised, right?

Man this is good stuff, I should become a marketer for the gym, huh?

After the gym, I decided to stop and get some Chinese food. My husband was gone on a camp out, and I didn't feel like cooking after working out.

Diana was with me, she loves the playroom at the gym, especially the DDR, dance video game they have.

She took the keys out of the ignition and said she would hold them for me. I should have known better. This is me and my life we are talking about here. Have I learned, nothing from the past. Apparently not, so I am doomed, doomed I say.

We ordered. Waited patiently in an impatient way for our food. Then we headed to the car. I looked for the keys, at which time I remembered that she had them last. I asked her where the keys were to which she replied she didn't have them. Problem.

We went back inside, and I asked if anyone had turned in some keys. No luck. We searched everywhere she had been in the restaurant, the table, the pop/soda machine, everywhere. NO keys.

I went out and looked to see if they were still in the car. NO. We looked to see if they had fallen on the ground while we were walking in. NOPE.

My mind raced as to what to do. My husband was gone right, so he was useless. Actually at this moment the other two spare keys to my car are lost and this was the only one I had. I cursed my lack of making 20 copies for just such occasions.

Just as a side note, about 18 years ago, I lost a set of car keys while I was at work. I drove the 17 miles to work in the morning, and then even went out to lunch. But when it was time to go home, no keys to be found anywhere. Finally my husband had to get someone to drive him to bring me an extra key as we were a one car family at the time. Good grief. And I never did find that key. Who knows. Bermuda triangle, is my best theory.

So back to my daughter and me, stranded at Pick up Styx. I was thinking that she may have dropped them into the garbage can when she threw away the wrapper to her straw. I looked in to see if anything was evident. NO. Just uneaten food, napkins, drink cups. You know just the kind of thing you would rather be dead than stick your hand into.

It was as I was weighing the options of searching through the disgusting trash can, calling a friend to give us a ride home leaving the car stranded, or paying an arm and a leg to a lock smith, when a worker came and saved our life. One of the other workers had found the keys somewhere. We were spared from spending our Friday night dumpster diving.

It is at this point that I am thinking my kids are ganging up on me to see how long it will take me to pull all my hair out. They must really want to see me bald. What will be my breaking point? I bet they even have a pool.

And I still have the answered questions of will my nice padded cell have Internet connection so I can still blog, and when they come to take me away and put me in the straight jacket, will it make me look fat.