We really need the bathroom renovated or is it remodeled?
The shower has separate fixtures for hot and cold water. We're changing that to a single fixture. One of those round ones with the single handle.
We now need to exert so much pressure turning the hot water off it takes both hands and a torque wrench. Even at that I need to check the drip, drip, drip every time we get out of the shower. That's not the worst part; even when running the water slowly and taking a quick shower, by the time we're done we're ankle deep in water.
Now I know there are a lot of people in the world who would love to take a hot shower in our bathroom and I shouldn't complain, but I am. There are quick and relatively inexpensive fixes for both problems but we want to do this right and I'm starting to get nervous about the project.
Yesterday I got so frustrated when trying to use a plunger on the shower drain I lost my composure. I started screaming at the walls, my piston like action moving like the speed of a car engine. Down and up, down and up, down and up. After a minute or two of this frenzied action I ripped the knuckle of my right index finger across a sharp edge of the downspout. Good thing I was in the shower, I didn't need to clean up the blood.
So my right hand is bleeding profusely (sorry, maybe some of you are phobic seeing or reading about blood). I'm up to my ankles in water that is getting redder by the second and I'm naked. And of course I have a brand new bath towel within reach and its beige. Trying not to bleed all over the towel I quickly wrapped it around my body put a wad of toilet paper on my finger and ran out to the linen closet in the hall. I usually call it the "closet of all things." I grabbed gauze, scissors, antiseptic ointment and band-aids.
Having no regard or consideration for my situation the cats decided it was close to three o'clock and they wanted dinner. I'm standing in the bathroom, half-naked and bleeding while trying to bandage my right hand using my very uncoordinated left and I have two cats sitting in the hall staring at me. God, if they could sing and dance they might be worth something.
I'm getting really tired of these cats. Yesterday I watched a really cool video of a skateboarding cat. All these guys do is eat, sleep, poop and take up space in our bed.
Dakota, Dakota is the worst. She's 13-years-old, has had raspy breathing her entire life and always sounds like a 5-year-old mouth breathing kid with a snotty nose. She will NOT let us hold her and clip her nails so they're like little knives. Her eyes are always runny and she insists on climbing up my chest and perching parrot like on my left shoulder. It's always my left, the side I had five operations on. She did the same damn thing to Younger Daughter Rebecca when she was here last month.
Now this truly makes me crazy. I'm sitting on the couch watching TV and she's sound asleep on the chair, if I get up to go to the fridge or the bathroom or answer the door or the phone, when I get back she's curled up in my spot. No matter where I sit, the minute I get up Dakota decides that's where she wants to park herself. And when I try to move her she snaps at me.
Several years ago she had a dental issue and we had her four front canine (canine? shouldn't they be called Felis catus?) teeth removed. So now when she grabs and shoves my wrist in her mouth she's sort of gumming me. That's Dakota, our only girl.
Steve and Sparky appeared in our backyard and eventually worked their way into the house. Steve whines and follows Wanda around the house like a love sick puppy. Around 4:30 p.m. Monday through Thursday he plops on the top of his cat condo and stares out the front window waiting for her to come home from the office. The second the RAV4 pulls in the drive he jumps down and runs to the front door. Steve loves to eat and never met a kibble or chunk of canned food he didn't like.
As soon as Wanda goes into the bedroom for the night Steve lays down right next to her. He spoons with her more than I do.
Sparky, on the other hand, runs if we look at him sideways. He has hiding spots all over the house and garage. He was feral for at least three years so he does everything on his terms. He may run from us but he has no problem jumping on the bed (and us) at 4 a.m. if his food dish is empty.
When I met Wanda I considered myself a dog person. She and Older Daughter Jennifer converted me. I still love dogs but wouldn't want to live with one. I picked up enough shit when I was married to the bad spouse (and some of it was from the dogs). We've always shared the house with cats and these three will be our last. One of these days I want to close the house and go on vacation without having to worry about them. Especially Steve.
Oh, I was describing my hand. Eventually I was able to bandage the wound and feed the cats and for the second time in a month I'm trying to type with a finger I can't bend.
I quit smoking in 1999 and started eating. I stopped eating in 2009 having gained forty three pounds. In some of the old cruise photo's I look like an inflatable float in the Macy's parade. I did a lot of cooking back then using butter and heavy cream. I baked bread and everything had a sauce. I made cookies, biscottis, pies and crisps. I have enough kitchen gadgets to start a restaurant.
At my heaviest I was 193, I'm 155 now. I went from a 40" waist to a 34". When Wanda and I got home from the October cruise I was 152. The holidays are diet killers. I can only refuse candy and cookies so many times. I know many of you know Wanda as the Cookie Lady and she is a terrific baker. We always have something good in the house; however, it's always in the freezer. I really need to think about what I'm doing and what I'm about to eat.
I use a Wii-Fit and try to do ten minutes of yoga and thirty minutes of step aerobics five days a week. I do the step while watching television. When I recorded and watched the entire run of "The Sopranos" (most of which I'd never seen) it was easy to spend an hour stepping. Now I'm bored after fifteen minutes. I need a new show. I need to lose these last five pounds.
WebMD has a list of fitness myths and since I'm on the subject of weight loss I thought I'd share a few. Since I don't run, swim or do abdominal crunches I'll just gloss over those.
Running on a treadmill is just as hard on your knees as running on pavement. Doing crunches to get rid of belly fat is a myth. Swimming is good exercise but for muscles and lungs not for weight loss, unless you train like Michael Phelps. Weight machines are not better than free weights and you don't need to feel pain when you exercise. Actually, you shouldn't feel pain when you're working out just a little soreness after.
Here is great news if you exercise like me.
Aerobic exercise will boost your metabolism for hours after your workout.
The expert, Dr. Matuska says: "While your metabolism will continue to burn at a slightly higher rate after you finish an aerobic workout, the amount is not statistically significant. In fact, it allows you to burn only about 20 extra calories for the day. It doesn't really count towards your caloric burn."
I guess I should have read the entire article first. Well screw him and the horse he rode in on. Twenty calories is twenty calories. It's a tenth of an original Krispy Kreme, an eighth of a latte and a sixteenth of a slice of pepperoni pizza.
I'll take whatever I can get.
Back Monday with bathroom news, I hope.
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