Rien had the right idea: Go out and shoot numbers for his numbers project.
Less wonderful is Yintan throwing up and shitting in hidden places around the Rien house. Wuss has been throwing up over these last two years around here, it started two days after we moved in (I'll be interested to see if he stops when we move out.) and he's had his own bladder problems, problems I've described to excess, not to mention the occasional solid objects I find on the rug now and again. He's also lost twenty percent of his body weight, although lately he's been eating like a horse. And, although he sometimes seems frail, he also seems reasonably perky, you know, like a cat, without apparent pain or sorrow, still sleeping at the foot of the bed at night, ready each morning for breakfast.
I've had times when I've locked him out of the bedroom at night, there have been times when he's chosen on his own to sleep elsewhere in the apartment and I've been locking him out of the bedroom during the day while I'm at work to avoid accidents. Yintan's problems seem more serious, but Rien and I share the same dilemma: Wuss is a long time companion. He's not human and he doesn't figure into my will. There have been no trust funds set up in his name. But, you know, I live alone and if I choose to put up with a Wuss, well, then I don't really have to inconvenience anyone else with my decision other than a landlord, maybe, who holds title to the rugs. (Besides, all the few "anyone else's" I know are into cats - and dogs and horses and parrots and Hippopotamidae - or they wouldn't be "anyone else's".) So Wuss stays around. I am not able to put him out, not while he's pain free and sleeping with comfort. Wuss has gotten better, to some degree, I think, these two years later. Yintan too. Why not?
So, today I walked into work. Took the bus home, but pumped the last half mile up the hill.
Feel better for it, although it's touch and go when I go down the stairs in the morning (exit on the second floor to the garage and take the car?) or decend to the first floor and walk out onto the sidewalk? This morning it was sidewalk, but there were three days in the middle of this week without walking, Tuesday on the train, can't count Tuesday, but Wednesday I needed to return the laptop to the office (don't want to lug a bulky heavy laptop what with the camera gear taking up space in my backpack) and Thursday because I like to stay late, drink a glass of wine and shoot the concert across the street and it's more convenient (although not necessary) to have the car.
This stuff never goes away, does it? Walk, because it makes you feel better, makes you look better (makes you think you look better), but walk. Not today, not tomorrow, but every day, forever. Same with the weight. Gained two pounds over the five day vacation. The two pounds are gone, but shit, you can never take your eye off it or it will bite you on your well padded ass. I'm lighter these days. My eating habits seem to have changed with some effort and those habits have been holding and the weight seems to be coming off consistenly if slowly, but you can't quite, you know, you can't quite forget it and let it happen by itself. One day someone is going to tell me I must work on forever to make my rent every month. They keep, you know, coming up with this stuff. No escape, no escape, except for the big one that nobody wants.
Well, this has rapidly rattled into foolishness. Which means I must have finished another entry.