Goines On: Don’t count

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Goines had nothing to post for the day. He had spent the morning working outside to install some 2-foot fencing around plants that rabbits especially liked and half the afternoon trying to settle some nicknaming issues with a columnist.
    He was headed upstairs to see what he could do about a post when Mrs. Goines asked him whether he’d done his exercises yet. He hadn’t, but he agreed that right then was a good time to do them. He went into their exercise room, took off his shoes and emptied his pockets, and lay down on his back atop their stack of two mats.
    He raised and grasped his knees tight against his chest and almost started to count the 30 seconds he routinely held them, but caught himself and decided to follow the advice of that gym workout advisor who long ago told him she didn’t count, just concentrated on her breathing instead.
    What was the big deal about 30 seconds anyway? How many hours of his life had he already counted away? he wondered. Ridiculous, when you thought about it.
    Goines’ eyes widened in awe, and his cheeks relaxed into a grin. Five seconds into his first stretch, and he had already begun in his imagination to write the day’s post.

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