Treadmill Hell

I came home from work and fixed a nice spaghetti dinner for Bryan. Afterward, I told him how down I was feeling about the whole infertility / weight loss thing. I reminded him that he said he would help me with the treadmill tonight and how I looked forward to us bringing the treadmill inside all day (It was sitting outside in our hot ass garage). He told me that there is no way that we will be able to get it upstairs without scratching up the walls. Well, I didn't believe him. I proceeded to help him bring it into the laundry room and that is when I could hear it scrubbing and scuffing along the kitchen floor. My heart sank (for a moment) and then I proceeded to tell Bryan that he was f'ing up our floors. Next thing I know, we have entered into a nice big fight. After that was done and I had shed a few tears (and he apologized), we tried to figure out how to get it out of the kitchen. It took us lifting the damn thing but we did it. So, we plopped it down in the living room and that is where it now sits. I don't know what I was thinking. There is no way we are going to get that heavy thing upstairs. Bryan used to deliver furniture for a living in a past life and he is pretty damn strong. When I see him struggle with it, I can't help but wonder what possessed us to buy this heavy thing to begin with. Oh yeah...we lived in a single-story house, it was on sale and we wanted to cancel our gym membership. So as I sit here on the love seat and look to my left, I see this new piece of "furniture" that looks out of place. I was hoping to put a sofa table against that wall but it looks like we are going to have a treadmill there for the time being. I know it looks "ghetto" but right now, I don't give a damn. We aren't expecting any visitors until Christmas (aside from our uncles) so I don't care if it does look a little "ghetto." I've just got to make sure I get my ass on it everyday. If not, I have a feeling it will mysteriously migrate back to the garage.