No, I'm not talking about changing my lifestyle, or improving my health, or even cleaning up my office (although that is on the docket - not saying I'll get there anytime soon, but it IS on the list!).
I'm talking about running boards.
At this point, the 3 of you who read this are probably thinking I should just go have another cup of coffee and take another run at the whole "Monday" thing. You may be right, but the fact is that running boards are invading my life and I'm not sure I'm happy about it.
It probably started when I got my car. That was the point in my husband's mind where the pickup became solely his domain. That was when he turned his attention from tricking out his motorcycle to spending lots of time perusing the interwebs looking for ways to Man Up his Honda Ridgeline (heretofore abbreviated by MUHR). It wasn't very long and the first of many boxes appeared on the front porch via the man in brown.
First came some contraption that replaces something else and majickly increases horse power. I can honestly say that my only observation of this majik is that said contraption causes the engine to sound like a herd of howling monkeys when you step on the gas. I may have even mentioned this out loud in my husband's presence, and was treated to a show of deep indignation. (I might add that I have learned my lesson and refrain from any comments whatsoever on further MUHR developments other than "oh, that's very nice.")
Next came the "Lift Kit." This, I was informed, was necessary to create enough room for the new tires. Which were totally necessary. After all, there are over 50,000 miles on the truck, and I wouldn't want him sliding off the road because his tires were bald, would I? Having been suitably chastened over the howler monkey addition, I refrained from questioning the need for new tires so large that the vehicle needed to be physically raised from the ground. Apparently it's a guy thing.
So here we are, a few months later, and now the truck (I can't really just call it the Ridgeline anymore; after all this boosting and fine-tuning and MUHR I must simply call it a truck, which is apparently the manliest appellation possible) is louder, more powerful, taller, and possesses four of the gnarliest tires known to mankind. There's just one teensy problem. It's a little harder to actually get IN to the truck. And since the truck with its leather seats and moon roof and nice speakers and comfortable cab is responsible for taking customers to luncheon meetings and thereby enhancing the income of the owner and contributing to his opportunities to MUHR, it is necessary that said customers actually be able to enter the truck.
Enter running boards. Previously despised by the owner of the truck, apparently redemption was found in necessity (who knew it was so simple?). The only trouble is that running boards are kind of hard to maneuver with/around. There really isn't enough room to stand on them, being more of a ledge than a step, and somehow I always start with the wrong foot so I have to do a little shuffle before I can sit down. So now I have to think about how to actually get into the truck (which may be a dangerous overload of the little grey cells on some days). Getting out is even more confusing - again, there isn't room for my whole foot, and it doesn't work at all to just put my toe on it because I'm not turned that way - I usually end up skipping it altogether and just sliding down to the ground; generally inflicting uncomfortable contact on the back of my calf as a bonus. I've more or less kept these thoughts to myself; it isn't like anything is going to change, and as has been established, I have my own pretty little SUV that doesn't howl at me and is a perfect height for egress without confused feet OR little grey cells. And life goes on.
This last week, we finally bought a new bedroom set. For a pair who gets bored with furniture at the rate we do (or perhaps just furniture that has disappointed us in its ability to provide comfort - I'm looking at you, black leather sectional), managing to hang on to the previous set for 17 years was phenomenal. Styles have certainly changed during that time. Much more massive, the new bed has a beautiful wooden frame skirting the entire mattress, and an elevation that can only be described as majestic. As I've worked to adjust to the new topography of the bedroom in the dark (watch those toes!) I've had some difficulty figuring out how to get into and out of bed with any level of grace (a commodity that is often barely adequate to begin with). This morning, as I slid out of bed and felt an uncomfortable bump on the back of a tender calf muscle, it hit me...
My bed has running boards.