Big happenings in my world yesterday. My cat, Louis J. McGuffey, Attorney at Law, decided to exert his independence and openly defy my command that he NOT cross the street in front of the house. He moseyed on over there and had the audacity to lay down right on the other side of the asphalt and stare back at me. He is now grounded and forbidden to use the car this weekend for the date he had planned with the calico down the street. My fiancée feels that punishment is too harsh, but we have decided to form a united front on this parenting issue.
I took a bike ride with my fiancée, The Handsome Hermit, in the early evening in an attempt to become less sloth-like and remind our muscles that they are actually supposed to do something besides get us back and forth to the car or couch on a daily basis. Half way through this invigorating activity I became convinced that I was having a heart attack and had to quickly come to grips with the cold, hard fact that I was going to die on a back country road wearing a Harry Potter Quidditch shirt and no socks. Not surprisingly, I was ok with the shirt part and less OK with the geography of the situation. Alas, I made it back to the house, collapsed on the ground until my heart rate was under control and my vision had returned, then went inside to have a hamburger for dinner and watch TV for the rest of the night. My motivation for exercise leaves a lot to be desired, obviously.
Later that night, while trying to sleep, I was awoken by severe leg cramps. I’m still trying to decide whether to call these The Huffy Sneak Attack or Huffy Revenge. All votes will be considered. Anyway, my dog did NOT take too kindly to being roused out of a dead sleep by her swearing mother. She then realized that there was a thunderstorm rolling through and then remembered that she doesn’t like thunder, so she laid all 58 pounds of herself across me, shaking and drooling until her mother could make the terrible booming noises go away. As a side note, Lucie is gradually losing her hearing but she is still smart as a whip. She couldn’t hear the thunder while she was asleep, but was smart enough to realize that lightning signified those evil sounds once she was awake and knew that she should be afraid. She is a semi-retired Princess of the Labs and does not see a problem with any of her actions. I swear that she rolls her eyes at me and scoffs at my antics in a snooty British accent.
So, here I sit at work on a dull Tuesday afternoon; a sleep deprived, sore-muscled and under-appreciated pet parent that is fighting to stay awake and begging for work to do in order to accomplish this seemingly impossible goal. I’ve been successful so far, but I don’t have high hopes for the next few hours.