Four years ago, I bought a stationary bike, which P promptly nicknamed "The Bull" because its handlebars look like a pair of horns.
An actual bull:
At our old place, The Bull lived in the walk-in closet in our bedroom (P would often open the closet door and say "Hello, toro!") and I used it all the time and stayed fit. When we moved here, there was no room for The Bull, so it got shoved out on the patio with everything else that wouldn't fit inside. And I gained 20 pounds.
(You'll have to imagine some before and after photos here, because heck if I'm going to post any.)
I've been meaning to find a home for The Bull indoors and get back into the exercise habit, but I've been busy with other things. On top of that, The Bull has been outside for 16 months, slowly developing a layer of grime and occasionally sitting in the pool of murky water that forms on the patio every time it rains (the management claims there are drainage holes in the patio wall, but they lie), and I was too lazy to clean it. But today, I saw some marvelously awful Polaroids of myself sporting those extra 20 pounds -- 19 of which appear to be in my face -- and realized I couldn't put it off any longer.
So when I got home from work, I dragged The Bull into the living room, and after G went to bed, I used a LOT of towels and a LOT of hot water to remove all the dirt, dust, cobwebs, leaves, pine needles and other junk from it. I dried it off, and I heaved it up the stairs to my bedroom. And when I was finally finished with all that, I was so tired that I had to eat a bowl of cereal and lie down.
You know you're really out of shape when moving your exercise equipment is all the workout you can stand.