Don’t Think About a Giant Pink Elephant

Was it the power of suggestion, when I left a comment about my big fear of throwing my Fitbit into the laundry? Or, maybe the inevitable consequence of trying to be superwoman—work, laundry, groceries, errands, cooking, home maintenance, jogging once in the morning and again in the afternoon, packing so much in that my brain was scrambled and fried simultaneously?

I threw all of my workout clothes in the wash, went inside to get ready for date night, and gasped when my hand reached for my Fitbit and did not find it clipped to my jeans.

In the washing machine.

I almost knocked my husband over racing back to the laundry shed.

I don’t want to say for certain that it recovered, because the Fitbit forum is full of stories of the valiant little clip-ons going for one or two more days after a swim, then conking out, but I may have gotten to the little guy in time. It was still logging, still glowing, so I dropped it in a container of rice and left it there overnight.

So far, so good. It synced this morning, and is counting away. I’m torn, because I think I should probably leave it in the rice for a full day to be sure it is really dry, but I don’t want to skip a day of logging. I know I could enter exercise manually, but it isn’t quite the same.

This is the problem with being a Type A person who is obsessed with gadgets, tracking, and numbers. I should be able to do without for a day, and yet, I know I’ll be annoyed without the record of accomplishment. So, I’ve got it clipped to my waistband right now, and I’m hoping for the best.

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