Ok, I give in. Everybody I know under the age of 40 seems to have invested in these tiny, expensive Fitbits, which you snap on your wrist or clip on your shorts. They measure your steps, the flights of stairs you’ve climbed, general exercise, and calories expended. They talk to you. In cheery, shrill little voices very early in the morning.
“Good luck!” (Did it say “sweetie” or did I just imagine that?)
My take on this whole “I-am-going-to-monitor-every-activity-of-my-day…