Every now and then, it crosses my mind to care ever so slightly about my weight. It's pretty rare, actually. I'm one of those lucky, lucky people with a metabolism that just won't quit. To those of you built differently than me, and annoyed by that fact - I apologize. I can't help it. Would you like to eat some chips with me?
Anyway, last week I randomly wondered what the number of pounds was that one could attach to my size. Rooted around in the closet, and dug out a scale.
Stood on it.
And I'm proud to tell you, ladies and gentlemen, that my weight is still unknown, because I got an error message. Twice.
I weigh "E".
I'm not sure what to do with that, but fortunately ... I don't really care.
