I've kind of fallen behind on things and I'm slowly catching up. As I type, The Hubs has just landed at London Heathrow and will be home in a few hours. It's been nice having the house AND Jet Black all to myself, but I miss my Dude. Plus, I'm still traumatized by I Am The Pretty Thing That Lives In The House and I hate being alone in house. I'd probably be less freaked out if we lived in a flat and not a two-story terraced with stairs. And an attic. No one goes up there.
One of the main things I've slagged off of for the past few weeks is exercise. As much as I enjoy Fitness Blender on Youtube, I've been getting bored, so I've branched out.
I had my butt kicked royally by Mr. Billy Blanks. And I'm going to let him do it again. And again. I'm not going lie; I sometimes can't keep up because I'm not very coordinated, but I'm enjoying the workouts. I'm enjoying all the jabbing, upper-cutting, hooking, and kicking. Front kicks, back kicks, side kicks. I really needed a workout that I could channel all of last week's aggression into and I think I found it, thankyouverymuch.
I'm really trying to focus on typing this but I'm listening to Jet Black run around like a maniac, playing with his numerous crumpled-up paper balls (his real kitty toys are gathering dust in the cat tower) and it's driving me up the wall. The lights in the kitchen are turned off and I can only see his eyes in the dark. Sneaky McSneakerson.