Ten minutes. Thursday I got on the cycle for ten minutes, and Friday, my back hurt less. Damn. That means I have to get to the gym every day, and I have the motivation to do so. Went Friday evening as well. It's not what I call pleasant. I prefer the treadmill, generally. Like preferring the wheel over the rack, but. After thinking this flare up had subsided as much as it intended, nothing more to be done, I find I can make it better. Good, in a big way.
Moby on a tear all morning. Had the balcony door open, which was fine. Then he ran out, and crouched - aiming toward the railing. A very familiar stance and expression. Thankfully he is a timid and thoughtful jumper, and before he could work out the details of the trajectory, I shooed him back in, to his irritation. "NO! Wait! I was gonna... damn." I've also stopped feeling bad about the laser pointer. It always seemed a bit mean, a cheat, because he could never catch it, and oh, how he tries. But the last couple of times, before I turn it on, he looks up at the thing in my hand, expectantly, then down where the red bug will appear, then back up at me, and the pointer. OK, so he knows it's a game, and he likes it, and he can always go bite the stuffed mouse later.
Have to clean today. Must, must, must.
More dreams about my father, this time in the garage, dingy concrete and dim light, close space, and roller skates. He's rarely doing anything, sometimes shouting, but a leaden presence.
7 comments:
I must get myself a stuffed mouse for those moments when I feel bitey...
Watch out, the gym could get addictive! I've had that problem! Sore muscles make a heady drug!
Rosie,
Does this happen often?
Bill,
I've done the gym at various points in my life, without ever feeling the tug of attraction. It is a habit I've always found very easy to drop at the least provocation.
(o)
"NO! Wait! I was gonna... damn." - cats can be so expressive, and this made me smile.
Not least thanks to the fact that I've had the extra duty of acting as butler for a cat whilst his owners (or rather, staff) have been away the last few days - a black tom.
I have many dreams about my father, far more often than I probably realise. His presence in these dreams ultimately denotes his absence in waking life, and is thus bitter sweet (I therefore wonder about the dreams that you mention).
It didn't take the cats long to catch on to the game with the laser pointer, either. Now, all I have to say, in a hissy voice, is "Where issssss it, kitties?" and they start searching the floor for Mr. Dot!
Sometimes, when they've had enough, they look me square in the eyes before walking away, letting me know they think I'm daft for thinking I control the game.
:D
Trousers,
"Would Sir like his laser game now?"
My father had little to recommend him, not as a human being, certainly not as a parent.
Crow
Ha.
A friend had a cat who clearly saw through the game, and therefore wanted nothing to do with it, and seemed to think the other cat in the house was too stupid for words for going wild over it.
Post a Comment