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Two Inches

March 13, 2010

Not trusting the squiffy supporting structures in this house, I thought it would behoove me to purchase a stand to go with my new punching bag instead of hanging it from a beam in the basement.

Of course, I always carry a measuring tape in my purse.

Did I use it?

Nooooooo. That would involve intelligence. I instead “eyeballed it”. I stood in my basement and reached up and touched the ceiling. I then reached up and touched the top of the stand while at the store and went “hmmm. It’ll be close but I think it will be ok.”

And then we got it all in the basement and started putting it together.

All I can say is two inches can be a bitch.

Two frickin’ inches.

So, my first real workout will be emptying out the garage of all the crap that I will be sending to the dump anyway. I’ll be swinging a sledge hammer and breaking up the last of his crap. Then, and only then, will I bring the stand into the garage and begin to set up our family gym.

I believe I will call it “Silvers”.

Complete with my new best friend “Punchy”.

After that, all I’ll need to do is figure out how to rig matches and traffic in blow. Ahhhh, business ventures. The world is my oyster!

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