We will not commence with the evening activities of sitting about being wholly unproductive (internet surfing and TV) until the hour of eight thirty pm on weekdays.
We will wake up in the morning in time to actually chew and eat something before leaving for work.
We will eat out only two times per week.
They seem fairly reasonable, primarily with the help of books to read and lots of frozen foods. But I think these are things we can do. Writing journal entries? Counts as productivity. If we accomplish all of these things and I do something that can, in some small way, count as excersize, my big reward is a trip to the hot tub.
Today's "excersize" portion consisted of two hours spent in the dentist's chair. What? My heart rate was elevated and I was certainly exhausted when I was finished. I sweated some. And my eyebrows got a big workout while I was trying to communicate non verbally to my very nice dentist that, while I could no longer feel my left eye, his drill was hurting me. It sounds like excersize to me.
I have to go back on January 25 to have still yet more work done. And then after that, we get to start on crowns. I'm so happy I could cry. At this point, I've spent a year's worth of student loan payments on my mouth in the last thirteen months not including the money the insurance company has ponied up.
And my teeth still hurt. Thirteen months ago, none of my teeth hurt.
The cat has developed a new habit. It's one that really interferes with my ability to use the restroom. He's always loved nothing so much as he loved really kicking the shit out of a roll of toilet paper. And so the toilet paper has to go on the holder or else it will end up "festooned" (that's the technical term for when your cat shreds your paper products).
Well, lately, three days in a row, the cat has learned (and he's pretty stupid. I do believe he rediscovers this every day) to unroll the paper on the holder. Today he managed to get the last quarter of the roll entirely into the toilet. Steady claims no responsibility for the toilet paper ending up off the roll and in the toilet.
We can't lock him out of there because his litter box is in the bathroom. And I'm not moving the litterbox into the living room or a bedroom or something just so that if I just shut the door and listen to the incessant "THIS DOOR IS CLOSED! I DEMAND ALL DOORS BE OPENED AT ALL TIMES! DID YOU NOT HEAR THE VET SAY I HAVE A COMPULSIVE DISORDER!!" screaming from the cat, I can walk into the bathroom confident that he will not have attempted to festivally decorate the bathroom in streamers.
I've put another roll on there. Unrolled is still better than shredded. And hopefully he'll get over it soon. It's a little sad though how he walked up and put his paws on the bowl and watched it go down the drain with such a distressed little look on his face.
