Tuesday, July 28, 2009

Circadian Rythms

First off, I thought choreplay was a novel idea. I've been proven quite wrong. It's actually a feminst plot to undermine the "non-working-at-home" men of the world. Follow the link below, and you'll see what I mean:)


While it may seem original on my part, it's obviously nowhere near truly original.

My body is rebelling against me at the moment. These past couple of weeks I've had to work straight nights to cover for one of my assistants that is on vacation. Normally even if I close I wake up by 10am and start my day. Lately though? I've been craving sleep until 2 or 3 pm. But I have to get up at noon to let the dogs out so that I don't have additional chores to do before I leave for the next shift. It's making me crazy but it's almost over. I'll be back to a normal schedule shortly.

The kids were gone last week on vacation with the grandparents. That really made my workload so much lighter. I only cleaned twice and the place stayed immaculate. As soon as the boys got home the kitchen table was suddenly hidden under mounds of various foodstuff and artifacts, and there was no way you could even see the floor in the living area due to the huge quantities of toys and miscellaneous crap pulled from the bedrooms to be reunited with the children.

I broke down and got a suit for the wedding. There is no way I was going to lose enough weight to get my fat ass into the suit that I have. I suppose it's time to relegate it to the Salvation Army or some such so that a person of "smaller stature" can use the thing while it's still good. It seems that dieting and I simply don't get along in any way. I've been too long not worrying about what I eat and grazing all day to be held to a strict intake of calories. Besides, the dieting is brutal at best, extremely painful at the very least.

Amanda swears that you can't teach a cat anything.... I disagree. One of the cats liked to scratch on the bedroom door (the bedroom is a cat-free zone) any time one of us went in there. Her solution was to kick the door from the inside at which time the cat would usually stop scratching until it decided that she wasn't coming out, then it would start up again. My solution was a bit more elegant and straight-forward: I put a towel down under the door with the majority of it on the outside where the cat would be. When the cat started scratching I walked over and yanked the towel into the bedroom causing the cat the slam against the door and probably scaring the crap out of it. I haven't heard it scratching at the door since. I think cats can learn:)

Hound, however, doesn't seem quite as bright. I can't help but to love the little mutt though.

1 comment:

  1. I thought Emily seemed a bit rattled...

    I'll clean off the kitchen table tonight, dear. :)