skepticlysm

Let’s All Go to Catland!

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Skeptifist

in

,
  • Story day? 
  • Night before last, which was the Teenager’s last night before school started, I stopped by her room on my way to the office.
  • It was 9 p.m. and I’d digested enough to do my workout.
  • Have to start no later than 9-9:10 p.m. or I don’t sleep.
  • And I can’t before then because post-work hours go like this:
  • Drive home.
  • Tell everyone hi.
  • Get hugs.
  • Get mobbed by the one cat and two dogs (but not the new cat, which we’ll get to in a little bit).
  • Collapse on the couch for a bit and surf (which we’re working to eradicate).
  • Give up.
  • Get up.
  • Fix dinner.
  • Eat.
  • Digest.
  • Workout.
  • I could theoretically workout before cooking and in lieu of surfing, and that will happen eventually, but right now, this is what it is.
  • Anyway.
  • 9 p.m.
  • Stopped by the Teenager’s room.
  • She saw me, smiled, started to throw down her phone, which is what she does when she wants to talk.
  • Ahhhhh.
  • Do I workout or talk to the kid?
  • I’d already skipped the workout the day before, so that’s kinda where we were at.
  • I gave her five minutes, assessed her pre-school anxiety level, then told her I had to workout.
  • She frowned.
  • “You can come to the office and we can talk while I do my workout?”
  • “Ugh. No. Your breathing sounds are so annoying.”
  • Alrightey then.
  • My workout is pretty much this:
  • Jumping jacks or the bike to warm up.
  • Hip stretches/exercises from physical therapy during the pandemic when I jacked up the meniscus in my right knee.
  • (Doc told me I hurt my knee because my hips and ankles were too tight, so … PT on all of the above. I still have all the PDFs.)
  • Then some yoga.
  • Then push-ups and squats.
  • Then some bands.
  • Then the TRX.
  • Then the kettlebell.
  • It sounds long, but it’s a less-than-30-minutes kinda deal.
  • Apparently, I breathe loudly while enduring this.
  • Which annoys teenagers.
  • So annoying.
  • We hung out and chatted after.
  • I was still breathing heavy.
  • It annoyed her.
  • Now, whatever you’re thinking, do not let it convince you I’m “in shape.”
  • I’m on the way back to shape.
  • Restarting at my age is awful, btw.
  • So there’s that.
  • What else …
  • (Consults notes …)
  • Oh yeah. 
  • Here’s a story of a t-shirt by way of a cat.
  • My sister and brother-in-law have this giant orange fluffy cat named Stitch.
  • Around his nose, it looks like he has a big, white moustache.
  • I tend to make up nicknames for things.
  • People, places, animals, whatever.
  • And usually, for whatever dumb reason, the nicknames stick.
  • I started calling the cat “Wilfred,” because of the moustache that apparently makes my mind think of Wilfred Brimley. 
  • Who, you know, was only like 50 in Cocoon when they made it.
  • If you’ll remember, and honestly, you shouldn’t, but … it was a movie set in a retirement home. Had some aliens in it, I think.
  • Anyway, Wilfred.
  • One day, one of those soft envelopes shows up in my mailbox.
  • Opened it.
  • The t-shirt inside had a giant picture of Wilfred on it, cowboy hat, giant moustache.
  • Says, “Diabeetus” below his picture.
  • And below that, “Someone’s got a case of the sugars.”
  • The sugars? Wat?
  • This is only somewhat funny because Wilfred was a spokesperson for diabetes awareness or some illness-related product.
  • And that he pronounced it, “Diabeetus.”
  • I cannot/will not wear this in public, mind you.
  • But the joke, and the fact they were willing put some money behind the joke, made me laugh.
  • I wore it working out.
  • Which means I had it on while catching my breath in the Teenager’s room.
  • A person who does not appreciate the humor involved on any level.
  • So annoying.
  • Kinda like our new cat, Ginny.
  • She’s a four-year old “rag doll” cat.
  • She has really pretty blue eyes and a long white coat.
  • Liho, the cat who owns me, hates her still, obviously.
  • But Ginny persists in her bid to win her over.
  • She’s also made friends with the Women.
  • Me, however, not so much.
  • She squeaks a lot for communication.
  • When I try to pet her, for instance, she’ll squeak, then run just out of reach.
  • The Wife suggested we get her an Insta handle and have me record all her fleeing squeaks.
  • That would also no doubt pick up all my middle-age grunting as I leaned forward trying to pet her.
  • Anyway, last night, while prepping salmon for dinner, she kept trying to get to the salmon.
  • I told her “no” at least a dozen times.
  • And then I tried to boop her on the nose with my pointer finger.
  • She batted my finger three times whilst squeaking.
  • Fortunately, my cat-status is “taken,” so this did not hurt my feelings.
  • Cats, man.
  • I’ll take my annoying breathing and go. 
  • You guys have a weekend.

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