Today is day 85 of the New Order. 85 days of daily exercise. 85 days of very little cheese consumption. I think if I make it to day 100 I may celebrate by shoving fist-sized chunks of extra-sharp cheddar down my throat. Of course, then I will probably follow that celebration by spending the rest of the evening feeling like someone punched me in the stomach (which is what happened a few weeks ago when I decided to be daring and have some cheese nachos), but it might be worth it.
I've noticed the last few days that I'm not sweating nearly as much as I have been during my workout. I'm doing the same workout, the temperature in the house is the same, so I figure one of two things must be happening.
1. The workout is no longer challenging enough, and I need to step it up to something more intense, work out longer or add more weights.
2. My sweat glands are malfunctioning, and have spontaneously begun to emit less sweat.
Yeah, you're right...it's obvious what the answer is. Sigh. Guess I'll just have to live with malfunctioning sweat glands!
I guess it could also be due to the decreased humidity, given that it hasn't rained all day every day in, oh...3 or 4 days, UNTIL TODAY, so I guess we'll find out tonight whether that's a factor.
I'll give that longer workout some thought, though...that will give me something to mull over as I walk Wiley the stray around and around the front yard, since he can't always go into the backyard, as he's an EVIL CAT CHASER.
Dolly got herself chased last night, but it was at least partially her own fault. I made double-sure that she and McBeady were out of danger range, then I took Wiley out, and after a few minutes took him off the leash. Well, foolhardy little Dolly decided to creep ever closer to the fence (she was in the side yard), staring at Wiley intently, as if daring him to do something about it. He didn't notice her for a while, and then BAM! He threw himself up against the fence she had her nose pressed against, and she FLEW away. It was almost funny. Except not, as I then had to scold him, and drag him away from the fence, and spend the next couple of hours wondering if she was going to come back or not.
She did, of course. And she and McBeady stubbornly refused to leave the backyard for the rest of the night, and all day so far, hence the extra time available for front yard walking and mulling. Sigh.
My life is wearing me down this week. It's stray cat and kitten rescue ONLY for me from now on (and please God, let's take a little break from that, too, 'kay?). As God is my witness (arm outstretched, fist clutching a dog bone a la Scarlett O'Hara and her radishes), I'LL NEVER FOSTER A DOG AGAIN.
Right now I can't wait for tomorrow night, when I will be drinking mojitos with some fabulous friends, while the evil cat chaser is tucked securely in his cage. Who'll be laughing then, cat chaser?
Okay, I'm mentally taunting a stray dog. I have got to get a grip. Heh.
*So insists the cheerful woman on my workout video