Fending off two dogs tripping over each other in the mad scramble to get to the stuff and eat it.
On a positive note… I rarely have to clean cat puke off of my floor.
It was raining this morning when I woke. At first, I thought, “Yay, I don’t have to run.” Moments later, that thought became, “Crap. There are only 58 days left ’til the Army Ten Miler and I still can’t run a solid 30 minutes.”
When I signed up for the race, in my overly optimistic delirium, I remember one of the questions being something to the effect of how long I thought it would take me to run ten miles. Having no idea, I said three hours. That wasn’t the right answer. Apparently, two and a half hours is the max. If you don’t maintain a 15-minute-mile pace for the first five miles, you get re-routed at the five-mile mark.
Now that would be embarrassing.
So I need to go run in the rain. Or shortly after the rain. It’s time to get really serious here. Wish me luck!
WAIT… one more thing about cat yak. We’ve always referred to cat puke, whether it was a hairball or just stuff, as “yak” in my family. Back when Eric was a wee lad, I remember a conversation we had about violins. He wanted to know what the strings were made of.
“Yak hair, I think,” was my reply.
“Ew!!!” he moaned, all loud and disgusted. It took me a second to realize he thought I meant they use cat yak to make the strings.
“No, the animal,” I had to explain. “You know, a yak.”
Having this picture then would have made things much easier to explain.