Couch Potato

I’m trying not to judge.

Everyone goes through those periods where they don’t feel like exercising. But I’m getting oh-so-frustrated with the way he just lies there in my bed when it’s oh-dark-thirty, my running shoes are laced up, and the coffee I get to drink when I get done is gurgling through the sieve and smelling so inviting.

I know it’s early. I’d rather spend the morning lying about, too. I’d like to be able to forget the visual of my widening ass in the mirror and just crawl back into bed. But he’s my friend, my best friend, and you’d think he’d be supportive and HELP me by removing his head from my down-filled pillow, hauling his butt out of my bed and getting to stepping.

I fill his bowl with food and a metallic tinkle as the kibble hits the walls of the bowl fills the kitchen. I pause to listen. The rest of the house is silent. I pull his chain collar off its hook and it makes a jangling sound. I still. I listen, ear toward the stairs, but can detect no movement from my upstairs bedroom.

Hrmph!

As quietly as possible, I tromp up the stairs, collar in hand. I’m halfway up the steps when I hear a rustling and a thump.

In the dim morning light streaming through the windows he appears at the top of the stairs, tail wagging ever so slightly, a sleepy, half-lidded look on his face. When his face is a scrunched up like this, he looks just like a Shar Pei.

I find myself grinning at him, and I whisper, “You wanna go for a run?”

His tail stops wagging.

Brat.


Volunteered at the museum yesterday. When I was a kid, the museum’s collection was housed in this Palladian-style building. Its works were carefully lit, but on the whole I remember it being a dark facility. Since then, they’ve added on this atrium between the original building and the newer facility where they house their visiting collections, the interactive children’s museum, café and gift shop.

Through the rear of the atrium, you can watch the sailboats in the harbor, and it truly is an idyllic setting. I can’t believe I get to spend every other Saturday there.


I left the museum and went to see Ivan. My hair is literally breaking off, and he tells me it’s either too long and needs to be shorter or I’m stressed out. I hold my breath as he trims off an inch.

“The good news is that with all this breakage, you’re going to get a lot of lift.”

He told me to call him if I want to go do something sometime. I promised to do so, and headed out.


My phone was blowing up all day. One of my friends has a first date with a new guy. Sadie is just calling to chat. Carrie is childfree this weekend, and we’ve been catching up. And Email Buddy Eric has made a life-changing decision. He’s working, so I head over to see him at his office.

I spent an hour or so talking with him before I went home to where Boy and his new girlfriend are doing their laundry and waiting for me to come home and feed them.

Boy really likes this one. She’s a redheaded vegetarian from Fort Lauderdale he'd met at a football game. How he always finds the ones who drive Mercedes is beyond me. She’s a sweetheart of a girl, and not surprisingly, a lot like me. I walked in to find her Seventh Generation laundry soaps on the counter and took this as a good sign. I ordered in Chinese food and then shooed them out to Barnes and Noble while I finished up their laundry.

Dog ate some lo mien and went into the living room to lie on the couch and catch an episode of NCIS.