9 lives

I've been hesitant to write about this because truth be told, I get a little tearful when I think about how it all could have turned out.

A few weeks ago I thought I killed my cat. Writing that gave me a cold chill.

We had a wooden bed frame in our room that was squeaking horribly. The kind of squeak where you couldn't breathe let alone roll over without the bed creaking and disturbing your sleep. All it needed was a washer or two to make the horrid sound stop, but our eventual plan was to move that frame to the spare bedroom so I thought I would just speed up the process and move it right then and there by myself. I'd like to note that Adam was in the shower and I could have waited 5 minutes for him to get out to help me, but I didn't. I'm stubborn and thought I could do it myself.

The cat was sitting on my desk watching my labored grunts as I tried to push, pull, and otherwise move the mattress with my mind. Finally I get the mattress to move. Inch by inch I scooted the mattress off the edge of the bed frame really kind of proud of myself. Who needs a boy to do hard labor? Not this girl. Finally I got the last bit of mattress on the very edge of the frame. There was just about 8 inches of space between where the mattress sat hovering and the floor. I shoved it off the frame and it made a loud thud on the floor.

Then it was as if I knew even before I really knew. I scanned the bedroom for the cat. Where was she? Seconds later came the most horrible sound I have ever heard: the sound of my cat in clear distress. Oh my god. She was underneath the mattress and box spring.

You know how people talk about getting this rush of adrenaline when something bad happens? Someone may suddenly get the ability to lift a car off of a person when they could barely lift 50 lbs in the moment before that. You had better believe that I became superhuman in the moment that I knew she was under there. Without any effort I lifted both mattress and box springs. Deming was meowing and went running underneath my desk.

I grabbed her and she just kept meowing as I started crying. Oh my god... I had just dropped a bed on my cat. Was she ok? Did I break something? Did I need to take her to the vet? And what on earth would I tell them? "I'm sorry, here is my cat - I just dropped my bed on her." That sounded ridiculous - True, but ridiculous.

I was trembling and in tears when Adam came downstairs. He checked her out and thought that she seemed ok. She was still running around, didn't seem at all injured, just a little frightened. I think I was more shaken up than she was. The next 48 hours I stared at her for any evidence of discomfort or pain. She was fine.

Having come from a home where we didn't have pets growing up, I had no idea what people talked about when they spoke of such love for their animals. In that moment, I understood.

Deming has now survived 3 days in the trunk of my car and a bed falling from the sky. I bet she's grateful cats have 9 lives. I know I am.

Operation Tiny Pants

For the past 3 years, I have blamed my inactivity and subsequent weight gain on school, stress, and Savannah's fried food. I told myself that when I moved and got settled, all of that would change. No longer would I be in walking distance from Sweet Potatoes restaurant where I could get the most delightful cheesy/buttery/greasy meals. Grits, shrimp, and greens would all be out of easy reach.

Fast forward to the present day. I've been in Kentucky for 2 months now and have somehow fallen even deeper into my bad habits. Now it's not southern food. It's the office snacks. So many office snacks. And I have ZERO will power. None. Whatsoever.

Before you roll your eyes, I don't expect anyone to throw me a pity party. It's not so much the number on the scale that bothers me. It is having to buy an entire new wardrobe because nothing fits. It's expensive!!!

I need support.

Co-workers, I'm talking to you. Slap the bag of Doritos out of my hand and point to my oatmeal instead. Work is where I become weak. I can spin my chair 180 degrees and I have a buffet of snacks staring at me.

I do have good intentions, as we all do, but I've decided that to be successful my quest has to have a name. My battle will now be called: Operation Tiny Pants.

Heck, I'd even settle for Operation Smaller Pants.

If I don't do something quick, I am going to be relegated to Operation Stretchy Pants. Ugh. I refuse.

No excuses anymore. There is always time for a walk and there is a free exercise center at my complex. I have fitness videos and workout clothes. It's time to put all of those things to good use. Maybe tomorrow...

The Club

It's been just out of my reach for weeks, but on Sunday my bulk-buying dreams came true: We got a membership to the Club.

If you are not sure which Club I am referring to, I mean the Club that puts all other clubs to shame: Sam's Club. WOO HOO!!!!

I love a store where:

1. You have the option of pushing around a flatbed on wheels instead of a cart.
   
2. A box of granola bars weighs more than you do.
3. You can buy toilet paper that hasn't been opened.... gross, who does that?
   

I walked around laughing at the possibilities. We needed more Clorox, but did I need 4 containers of it? Probably not.

We settled on a few necessities:

Note how incredibly bad ass Adam is trying to look
while standing next to a tower of paper products.

The problem with buying things in mass quantities is finding a place to put it all.

If you've got a spill, I've got you covered.

So, after becoming part of the Sam's Club elite, I thought it couldn't get any better. How wrong I was. Today I had another fantastic Kroger find! This evening's find was much less disturbing than my last find.

Gummy bears for a quarter?!?! Yippie! I'll take 8 of 'em!

I promise they are not expired, open, or otherwise adulterated.... At least I hope not.

Dents

Two unfortunate things happened to me this week:

1. Someone hit my car.

• In the parking lot, I assume. They left a nice little dent and some paint above my front tire. No note. Thanks, jerk.

2. Someone almost hit me with their car.

• My walk to and from work can be somewhat treacherous at times, but this lady took the cake. She blared her horn at the car turning in front of her. That car was stopped in front of her because they were rightfully concerned about the people in the crosswalk - aka, me and three other people. The first car safely and appropriately turned. Right after that the walk sign turned green and the pedestrians started to cross the road. Crazy lady lurches forward AT us blaring her horn. Forgive me if I'm wrong, but since I started driving I have been under the impression that pedestrians have the right of way - especially when the little walking man says so. This woman must have missed that class. She is cursing us up and down inside of her car and honking as if we are a nuisance. I was the one closest to her car and I gave her a "What in the hell is wrong with you," look and pointed at the sign that gave us the right of way. She points right back at the same sign which made no sense at all. Then she hits the gas and lurches towards us again! I jumped to the side and kept walking as she peeled out and took off around the corner.

All in all, I'm glad it was my car that was hit. A dent in my car is far more desirable than a dent in me.

Living and loving

Yesterday marked 3 years of dating for me and Adam. I was super excited all day long and couldn't wait to get off of work to see him. We had a big dinner date planned that evening so I was glad when the day seemed to fly by with psych clinics and meetings. Then I got back to my office and all hell broke loose. Suddenly 4:30 seemed like it was coming much too quickly and the work that I had to complete in that time frame became overwhelming. I hurriedly attempted to type my clinic notes, then realized that 'quick' does not equal 'proficient,' so I slowed down to my normal pace which can be painfully slow at times. 4:30 came and went and as each minute ticked by I was more and more determined to get my work done and get the heck out of dodge.


At about 5pm I got to leave. (Not horrible, I realize, but
when you've got exciting plans it is agony.) I was defeated from my long day and knew that I had to put on my happy face for our night out. When I opened the door roses and a card were waiting for me. The stress from work dissipated immediately and was replaced with genuine happiness. Take note that the only 'vase' we had in the house was a gigantic beer mug (which only made me smile more).


Adam had scoped out a restaurant earlier in the day, and took me to a fantastic little Italian place. We had dinner and drinks and then decided to check out an English pub that was nearby. We had been pretty cooped up in the house since we've moved, so it was really nice to just get out and spend the evening together checking out what the city has to offer. That night it had great food and great company to offer.


I was dead set on getting a picture of our evening, but it was kind of weird asking some random person at the restaurant to take one. Self photography ensued which is always awkward. You know the kind: One of you is trying to hold the camera as far away as you can while looking graceful, but instead you bring your chin in and look like a scrunch-necked weirdo. Then you have to take the picture over again. And again. Finally a decent photo comes out where you haven't accidentally used the zoom and have gotten a close-up of someone's nose. He put up with me and we finally got this picture on our deck.



We spent the rest of the evening at home just talking and were asleep by 10:30.

Wild and crazy, I know.

I wouldn't change a thing.

Things that go bump in the night

This past week has been a mishmash of fear, growth, and (eventually) triumph. Adam started his 7 night tour on the night shift last Friday. It was something I had been mentally prepping myself for since the move to Kentucky. I knew it would be odd... I have always had someone else in the house whether it was my parents, a roommate, or a really tough roommate's dog, Oliver. Alright, perhaps the dog was more of a lover than a fighter, but he still made me feel better.

I kissed Adam goodbye last Friday and did what any girl would do who is ready to take on the night at home alone - I went out with some coworkers and avoided it entirely. A girls night out with dancing and drinks was a fantastic way to spend my first night "alone."

Saturday I sent him off to work again, but this time it was a different. I didn't have any crazy amazing plans to look forward to. It was just me, myself, and I. Everything went ok until about 11 pm when I decided it was bedtime. I checked the alarm, triple checked the doors and windows, and then attempted to go to bed.

It didn't go well. My nerves got the best of me and it was a struggle to ignore the false alarms going off in my head.
"Did you lock the doors?"
"What if you missed one?"
"What if, what if, what if...."

I got up about 3 different times to check, recheck, and triple check the locks. Then I decided it was time for a weapon. The Louisville Slugger seemed ineffective in case of emergency. I finally settled on a pocket knife next to my pillow. Yeah, that's right, if you want to mess with me, you are going to mess with my 2 inch pocket knife.

After a fitful night of tossing and turning, I fell asleep about 5 am. It was a short lived victory, as my rest was promptly interrupted with a "BANG!" I sat straight up, adrenaline flowing. "Someone was in the house," I thought. I quickly realized that my life was not in danger, it was the darn cat playing with the cupboards again. I don't think I fell asleep again until the morning sun peeked around our curtains.

As the nights went by, sleeping became a little easier. Perhaps this was because each night that went by brought me closer to the night when Adam would get to stay home with me again. I still woke up throughout the night, but fell back to sleep a little quicker each time. I developed my routine of lock checks, quiet time, and a phone call home before bed. It calmed me down and made it easier to fall asleep.

The end of this 7 day stint could not come quickly enough for me and last night we had big plans to go out for a nice dinner. Things didn't go exactly as planned, however, because when I got home, I curled up next to sleeping Adam and took a 2 hour nap instead. Take out Thai food (yum) and DVRed tv shows occupied the rest of our evening. Truly, I didn't care what we did - I was just glad to have Adam back home so he could fight off the things that go bump or bang in the night.

Cheapy TP update

I have not used the toilet paper yet.

It still makes me a little nervous.

People have brought up questions that I cannot answer, nor do I really want to think about in depth, but I'll share them with you and you can come to your own conclusions.

1. Was it returned? Did someone take it home, use a roll, and actually bring it back to the grocery store for a refund? Who does that?

2. Was the missing roll kidnapped? Do the police need to get involved? Do I need to plaster "missing" posters around the city and offer a reward?

3. Was it a bathroom emergency? Was someone walking down the TP aisle and thought, "Oh man, I have to go, and I have to go NOW."?

4. What if someone tampered with the remaining rolls? A terroristic attack of sorts. They'll get you when you're most vulnerable.

5. Was it simply a juice spill emergency and that was the closest absorbent item around?

I'll never know the true story. Personally, I like to think that the missing roll is on an adventure - It broke out of it's plastic jail and rolled away to a life of freedom.

Cheapy TP

Bad buying habits are hard to break, but ever since I came to the realization that money doesn't grow on trees, I've tried to be thrifty. It's hard. It used to be that I would run out to Target on a whim and go crazy buying needed and mostly un-needed items. Now I don't dare tackle any store without a list. I have my old roommate, Heather, to thank for the list making.

Well, today I hit a new level of thrifty awesomeness.

While shopping at Kroger I walked by the clearance section. Most of the time there is just a bunch of random crap sitting there expired, but today was different. I found a treasure:



Yeah.... I bought a pack of OPEN toilet paper.
It was missing a roll.
An entire discussion went on in my head before deciding on the purchase. Here's how it went:

Me: "WOO HOO!!!! CHEAP TOILET PAPER!!!"

Grossed out me: "Open toilet paper?? Are you freaking serious?"

Me: "Absolutely! It's like it has my name on it!"

Grossed out me: "That's disgusting... why is it open in the first place?"

Me: "I don't know, but it is 99 cents!! "

Grossed out me: "Whatever. You're weird."

Me: "But it's Charmin!"

Grossed out me: "Ugh, go away."

So yeah, now I have oddly opened (but taped shut) toilet paper. I'm not sure how I feel about this yet, but it's in my living room.