Stairs.

I recently went to a friends apartment for the first time. Her name is Sarahe, don't try. She lives alone, in a one bedroom in the lower east side. Needless to say I'm jealous. She lives on the top floor, the 6th floor, with no elevator. Her stairs are steep, almost as steep as the ones I had growing up in Maine. Six floors worth of stairs. It was incredible. I've been making a habit out of taking the stairs lately, 4 floors up to Jesse's, or even just at work. I work overnight, nothing is ever rushed, and I can take the stairs. But wow, living with that, would be incredible. I am not in shape, plain and simple. After Six floors of stairs, I was winded, my legs ached, and I deffinetly enjoyed claiming one of the two chairs she has in her place. Before you laugh, the stairs were taken multiple times, on numerous beer runs and what not. I'm not THAT out of shape. But Jesus, I would love that kind of work out everyday, because it's not really working out. I can't get behind working out, I get it, I just don't get it. But fuck, you just make those stairs a part of your life, and you're fucking set.