Fattie Update: Involves Cats, Lack of Judgement and Donkey Parts

HASAY. So we meet again. It’s time for another fitness update. This one’s not a stretch, I promise. I actually exercised almost every part of my body this week with the exception of my better judgment area.

A little over a week ago, my husband offered to give me a Sunday to myself sans kids. I jumped at the chance thinking about all the projects I could finish up around the house without being interrupted every ten minutes to replenish chocolate milk or reset the DVR so that a new Spongebob Squarepants would play. And those are only my husband’s requests, I haven’t even mentioned my kids’ needs yet.

As my Jeremy pulled out of the driveway with both Henry and Reese in tow, I waved and shouted “Goodbye! I love you!”, but in my head I was thinking, “See ya later, suckas! I’m taking a nap!”

I immediately ran up the stairs, peeled off my go-to-town sweats and threw on my screw-the-world-I’m-laying-around-in-these-holey-sweats sweats. I then proceeded to have myself a cat nap. Not “cat nap” in the traditional sense where I nod off for twenty minutes and wake up feeling energized refreshed. No, I took myself a two hour doozy of a nap surrounded by my two cats. Meesha slept at my knees as usual and Taz took his regular position curled up on my head. That nap will go down as one of my top three naps ever, just behind the accidental nap Henry and I took last spring and a six hour nap I took my Sophomore year in college.

Anyway, I’m counting this most recent nap as a workout because when I woke up I was a tad bit sweaty and I was still tired. Feels like a work out to me. Since then, I’ve been trying to re-create the magic of that relaxing Sunday afternoon. I’ll call both cats into the bedroom and pat the bed and try to coax them into a nap with me. So far, neither of them are game. How is it that I can’t get these lazy cats to lie down with me again? Am I that horrible of a nap partner?

One time I even resorted to bringing cat treats into the bed to entice them, but they were having none of that. Taz sauntered into the bedroom, took one look at my ratty sweats and even rattier hair then turned around and made a run for it the other way. Actually, that’s not entirely true. He licked himself before he ran away from me.

The lack of cat cuddling eventually put me in a bit of a depression so I did what I typically do when I’m feeling low, I went for a walk to sort out my thoughts. I headed over to the nature trail system, a fifteen mile winding path for biking, jogging, rollerblading and spray paint tagging near our home. The cool air and liberal use of “sucks donkey ballz” written on the winding path was doing wonders for my funk and by mile two, I felt almost completely better about the cat situation. I was however becoming a little worried about the spray painter’s in depth knowledge of the anatomy of local donkeys.

Then suddenly, an unfamiliar ball of orange and white darted out of a bush along the trail. The quick motion caught me off guard and I stopped my pace to get a better look at the object scurrying in front of me. It was a cat. It looked well kept, so I knew that it wasn’t a stray, but probably just a house cat out for a stroll. I called out to it “Hey, kitty, kitty.” and was on my way.
Over the next few days, I continued my speed walks on the trail, and spied my new little orange and white friend along the way. Some days, he even had another cat or two with him. It was on day four when a stroke of genius hit me. If Taz and Meesha wouldn’t nap with me, maybe I’d recruit outside cats for the snuggle time.

I ran home, grabbed all of Henry’s art supplies and quickly whipped up what I thought was a genius marketing campaign to invite the local stray cats to spend some quality down time with me.

I nailed these up all along the nature trail that evening and anxiously counted down the days until the weekend arrived.

To my knowledge, to date, I’ve received no takers on my very generous offer. I did however receive a visit from the local code enforcement offer, who just so happens to be my fifth grade teacher, Mr. Hollingsworth. He forced me to sit through an uncomfortable half hour lecture on why it’s not safe, or sanitary to invite stray cats to sleep in your bed. He informed me it’s also illegal to use public property as a venue for advertising without a permit.

I was all, “Then you’d better talk to whoever’s been spending quality time with the local donkeys in town, Mr. H.!”

That outburst earned me a dirty look and five demerits from my former teacher. As he left our home, Mr. Hollingsworth turned to me and said that he didn’t know what upset him the most, that fact that I had no common sense or the fact that he’s responsible for not teaching me to spell “common” or “sense” properly.

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My previous HASAY updates can all be found here.