Promise made, promise kept. After the three days prior when we were working ourselves into the ground, I swore I would do absolutely nothing today. I was as good as my word. I couldn't sleep too terribly late, because my brain just doesn't play that way anymore. But I managed to stay in bed comfortably until after 8, so that counts. I took my time over coffee. I sat in the hot tub until it overheated me. I stayed in it another 15 minutes, in order to clean the scale off the sides with a microfiber washcloth (it seems to work the best). And then I spent the rest of the day in a too-short bathrobe and not much else. This became a problem when our neighbor showed up to store a beer in our basement while it ferments, but I just pointed him to where he needed to go, and never stood up, so as not to embarrass either of us. I failed to make the red sauce I intended to from a mound of home grown tomatoes, but I did pre-brown the beef that will go in some killer spaghetti sauce once I get around to it.
In short, I recovered. I rested. I took a Me Day. I'm still sore as hell and covered in bruises, especially the big purple ones on the backs of my ankles. I can't raise my arms above my head. I'll try to stretch a little tomorrow. For now, all I care about is doing as little as I can get away with, and today, that was exceptionally little.
I feel obligated to take a couple of photos a day, unless something truly tragic befalls me. No tragedy today, so I was free to photograph my favorite subject: cats. In my lethargic state, I declined to cook for myself, relying instead on the leftovers from yesterday's mountain trip. I discovered, as I was nearly through the bag of banana chips, that Harveys really, really like them. He ate them with the gusto normally reserved for catnip flavored Temptations treats. A little later, I was finishing the last handful of Cheetos from yesterday, when he came back, asking to try those too. I warned him they would turn him orange, that they were magic pills that would make him look like his brother Ziggy. He was a bit dubious, and he kept considering the tiny Cheeto he took from me, and looking to see whether I was serious, then back to the Cheeto... Eventually he ate one or two of them, but that was all he was willing to risk, without a serving of half and half to turn him back to ivory for balance's sake.
The moment Harvey discovered banana chips exist and realized that I could have been feeding them to him this entire time... but DIDN'T!
While he debated whether I was teasing him about the Cheetos-will-turn-you-orange thing.
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