1. Last night I dreamt that I made the most delicious turkey sandwich in the history of the universe. And then I ate it. It was a wonderful dream. That is all.
2. Okay, I'll elaborate. It was a simple sandwich. Just hot turkey and maybe a little bit of mayo and cheese. But the main thing was that it had pickles and either grilled or pickled onions.
3. Lately I have been noticing that my pants are fitting me in an increasingly snug manner around my waist. I like to think that this is due to the inevitable shrinkage that comes with repeated washings and dryings. But a sad little part of me inside knows that it is because I am slowly but surely edging closer and closer to the big 3-0 and that regular physical exercise (i.e. more than just my pointer finger as I surf through the boob tube) is becoming more and more of a necessity. Damnit. I did, however, contemplate bringing all of my pants into the tailor this week and requesting that they all be taken out by half of an inch. But how sad would that be? Ugh, seriously. I don't think I can bring myself to that quite yet. So, I guess as the weather grows warmer I should start doing more outdoorsy aerobic physical stuff. Blergh.
4. Speaking of, a friend of mine gave me one of those big exercise balls that are supposed to help you do ab crunches and stuff more efficiently. I inflated it yesterday and soon found out that Bela is freaked the f*ck out by it. Like, no joke. The big red ball was sitting in the middle of the living room and Bela literally circled the entire perimeter of the living room, against the walls, taking three very slow steps at a time and looking back at the ball to make sure it hadn't moved. It was hilarious. And then Schmoobins thought it would be funny to bounce the ball towards Bela (I, of course, protested vehemently...cruel bastard.) and it resulted in Bela literally hiding out in the bedroom for the next 2 hours.
5. And then today we are having our carpets cleaned. This does not bode well for Bela, considering he flips out if I even deign to wheel the vacuum out of the closet. First, a gigantic bouncy red ball is thrown at him and now a strange man wielding an industrial sized carpet cleaning machine will be intruding on his personal space. If there were such a thing as a kitty psychiatrist, I'd be booking his appointment right now.
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