I was a bum today, but I'm not entirely certain that I am the one to blame.
Yesterday (yes, Saturday!) was a big day for work. Up at 5:00 AM, okay maybe 5:30, and out the door by 6:20. Forty five minute commute, followed by a roller coaster of a work day. It was our big deal work event, and I had an integral part of the registration process.
The day went like this: registration flurry in the morning, long periods of boredom, interspersed with panicked transitioning between sessions. Lots of questions (some relatively stupid), lots of smiling, two cinnamon rolls at about 8:00 AM and a bag of chips from the vending machine at 1:00. Nothing else to eat the entire day. I didn't leave until after 4:30, and couldn't even go straight home because I had to stop and take care of Gazelle. More on that later . . . but basically, the dramatic tail isn't over yet.
So when all was finally done, I got home at about 7:00 PM. My wonderful husband had fixed a plate of food for me, and popped a beer as soon as I walked in the door, but even still I went to bed at 7:45 PM. I'm a loser.
And today . . . today was a complete waste as far as chores went, but apparently it was a necessary part of my recovery.
Do you ever have those days? Completely useless in the productivity department, yet gloriously fulfilling for the laziness meter. Sometimes your laziness meter just needs to be replenished.
I stayed in my pajamas all day. I stayed on the couch all day. I read, watched TV, and slept. The only thing productive I did was let Danny sleep in by taking the dogs for their morning walk. In my pajamas. Without combing my hair.
Now that's hot stuff.
I kept thinking, in a little bit I'm going to get up. I should at least vacuum today. Perhaps if I'd gotten dressed instead of lazing around in my PJs all day, that would have happened. Perhaps if I'd gotten up before Bunny made herself comfortable, it could have happened.
But I just couldn't get up because Bunny was curled up on my legs. It's a sin to disturb a sleeping cat--everyone knows that. Once I had to move her because I had a colossal cramp in my asscheek (you know you're lazy when: your asscheek cramps from being curled up on the couch too long!). As I started to straighten my leg it kind of scooted her in a slow circle. She lifted her head like she had the weight of a thousand sleepless nights on it. I stopped mid-scoot, and she set her head back down with a grumpy sigh. But then my asscheek cramp started getting worse, actually started to twitch, so I knew I had to straighten my leg the rest of the way.
I tried inching just a little bit, but she opened one eye to glare at me and I froze. Then the asscheek cramp started to pulse with my heartbeat, so knew something had to be done.
I thought, what if I do it like a band aid; one quick rip and it's over? Like pulling the tablecloth out from underneath all the dishes. I decided to give it a try. I straightened my leg in one quick, jerk, stretching it toward the opposite arm of the couch, swiveling Bunny the rest of the way and releasing the asscheek cramp all in the same satisfying motion. I felt guilty for disturbing her, but turned innocently back to my book, too comfortable to be sorry. That is, until I saw out of the corner of my eye the laborious swivel of Bunny's head as she turned around to glower at me.
My smile faded, and I immediately suppressed the expression of relief; I had one pissed-off foof to mollify. I reached down to rub her head, hoping to get her to go back to sleep and stop giving me the stink eye. But stretching downward caused my weight to shift, and therefore my leg to move. She stopped looking at me, but only so she could turn her scowl to my leg underneath the blanket.
I stopped rubbing and actually apologized. To my cat. For disturbing her rest. And it would have been funny that I was apologizing to a cat, except for the look she gave me that made me ease gently back and open my book without letting my legs move again. It was, "Next time, you die."
So you see, clearly it was Bunny's fault that I didn't vacuum yesterday.