Y’all know I essentially sit around all day, right?  As in, I don’t have a job, and while I am cooking a fetus, it doesn’t require much specific care other than feeding and watering, things I would do for myself in any case (although, especially in the case of feeding, with an alarmingly increased frequency).  I do the dishes daily, I run whatever errands need running (mostly to the grocery store, see rate of feeding, above), and I hit a yoga class four times a week.  This collection of responsibilities leaves with the a virtual SHIT TON of time left over to watch multiple episodes of House or Law & Order: SVU, depending on which USA has decided to run, marathon-style, that day, or to spend countless hours on the internets, reading blogs of all sorts, watching my Twitter feed, and generally meandering my way to the end of it.  I assume much of this will change once Junior arrives, but with that a good four months (KNOCK ON WOOD) away, I currently have plenty of time on my hands.

PLEASE NOTE:  I am not complaining.  No, seriously, I’m not.  I know there aren’t a lot of people who can afford to be in my position, and seriously, every day I am glad I have the option to lay around and do essentially nothing.

That said, this emploi du temps leaves me with precious little to blog about, mostly because, seriously, nothing happens.  I am not talented enough to make an interesting post out of my trips to Whole Foods, the pet store, and the yoga studio.  Neither am I clever enough to just dream up some random topic, so instead I will leave you with a bullet pointed list of things I’ve noticed lately.

General Category: Cats

**  The old gray one has recently decided that the back corner of my closet is the best place for him to spend his days.  This is only notable because, back when we lived in Seattle, a different old cat, a black one (Yes, there was a time when we had four cats.  FOUR!) also decided the corner of my closet was a good place to go in preparation for dying.  Of all the closets in either this place or our old place in Ballard, both of these cats have picked my specific closet for the purposes of dying.  Well, in the case of the gray cat, we think it’s dying, since he is some teen number of years in age, weighs a measly 7 pounds, has hyperthyroidism and hypertension, and appears to have forgotten the whereabouts of the litterbox.  So, gray cat is dying, and he’s doing it in my closet, which is why my closet is now the Death Closet, and the gray cat now Death Kitty.  We clearly have very adult ways of dealing with his impending demise.

** Every once in a while, the other two cats decide, via some mysterious mechanism unbeknownst to me, to change where they sleep.  For a while it was under the bed, and then several months later it was on the couch or the armchair in the living room, and for the past week or so, it has been on our bed.  Which is generally fine, except one weighs 14 pounds, and likes to sleep at the midpoint of the bed, smack dab in the middle, and is completely resistant to being kicked off the bed, or even into a different position.  So I change MY sleep position, because I am a slave to my 14 pound tabby overlord, HOLY HELL, what is wrong with me?

General Category: Not able to be categorized, which makes the whole categories thing sort of dumb

** Look, I’m gonna be honest, I have fat rolls.  Especially in the midsection- one little one that is easily hidden under a camisole or even a t-shirt, like you wouldn’t know it was there unless I told you or you saw me naked, which, I don’t think that’s going to happen for the vast majority of you reading, and one larger one, the one most of you might call my gut.  As my fetal tenant gets larger, my gut roll pushes out further (now I really just look pregnant), but MOST INTERESTINGLY (to me anyways) is the disappearance of the little fat roll.  Where once there was a little fold where the roll sat on top of the gut, there is now only exposed skin, as if my body was kind enough to use my fat to stretch out, instead of, I don’t know, stretching out UNDER the fat.  If I’ve just grossed you out, err… sorry, and the whole point was just to say, hey, look, my body is weird and interesting!

** Thanks to Temerity Jane, I have become an unrelenting shopping cart returner.  I think before I read her entries on returning shopping carts to either the holders in the parking lot or at the front of the store, I had probably a 75% return rate, and would sort of shove it into a corner the remainder of the time.  Since reading her posts, however, I have become VIGILANT and RIGHTEOUS in my shopping cart returning, and often spend entire minutes of my drive home from various stores mentally berating the individuals who leave their carts willy-nilly.

Last week’s recipient of my ire was some jackhole who left his cart in the MIDDLE of a parking spot.  And not just any parking spot, but the closest, non-handicapped, one to the entrance to the store (you know the one, the one a growing pregnant lady might like to take?).  Not being the sort of person who would get out of her car to move a shopping cart, I simply parked further away, and groused about it to myself mentally.  On my way out of the store, however, I did witness the following:  A woman, spying the cart in the middle of the desirable parking spot, parks her car in the middle of the road, exits the car, moves the cart to the adjacent HANDICAPPED spot, returns to her car, and parks in the now clear spot.  The kicker is that she proceeds into the store, leaving the offending shopping cart in the middle of the handicapped spot.  WHAT IS THIS, I DON’T EVEN.

**  I know it is antithetical to the spirit of yoga, but seriously, people, NO MOANING in yoga class.  To me, it brings to mind the sort of thing people do expressly so that OTHER PEOPLE will know that they are really into something, or really good at something.  Like all that competitive parenting you read about, where one mom says she never goes to McDonald’s, and the next mom says she doesn’t let her kids have candy, and the third mom has to top it all off by saying she grows all the vegetables her kids eat in their backyard from heirloom seeds she’d been saving from her grandmother’s garden since she was a girl for this EXPRESS PURPOSE.

Or the chicks at rock concerts who close their eyes and dance, enraptured, at the music, in a way that YOU TOTALLY KNOW they are doing to impress that guy over there with their love and adoration of this music, because there is no way in hell anyone can be so TRANSPORTED by a particular song that they will dance around flailingly, “ignoring” everything and everyone around them because this music is just so deep and MEANINGFUL to them.

You know what I am talking about- and that’s how I feel about moaning in yoga class.  You go do your yoga, I’ll do mine, and no need to bring attention to how SATISFYING you’re finding this particular triangle pose by MOANING about it, for the love.   Let’s just say that on some days, I leave yoga a little less zen than when I walked in.

** Sweetheart J got me a Kindle for Valentine’s Day, even though we expressly decided not to get each other anything.  Oops.  I am clearly bad at deciphering when “let’s not get each other anything” really means “let me get you the one thing you’ve been talking about for months.”  In any case, I am totally in love with it, mostly because it is so portable, and a variety of books are available from Amazon for a measly $0.99, which is a fraction of what I might spend at an actual bookstore.

Thus far I have finished Room, by Emma Donoghue, which has got to be the most disturbing book I’ve read in a very long time, and have started in on the first of the Trylle series (which was recommended to me via Twitter).  I would be eternally grateful for additional reading suggestions, of all genres.

There you have it- all that’s been rattling around in my pea brain for the past week.  How was your week?

Advertisements