Two sunny days in a row. Oh, I was in sunshine heaven this weekend.
Woke up reasonably early and made myself get out of bed and go to a body pump class. It was about 3 degree Celsius and the window of my car was iced over. I had to tip the water from my drink bottle over it to defrost it.
Amazingly the gym class was packed despite the chilly morning. Everyone looked as though they had just rolled out of bed to get there. It was a particularly hard class as the instructor was a new one and did a slightly different routine. I was sweating from start to finish.
When I have done outdoor exercise I never need to drink much but when I am doing an indoor class I drink non stop. There is never much of a break and the room is warm so I expect that I would get a bit dehydrated.
At night the class is different because it is lit like a disco with sparkly lights. This is the disco of the new century. All those middle aged women who went to discos all those years ago now go to body pump to keep fit.
After my huge walk last night and the exercise class this morning I had lots of energy. Energy that had no direction. I read the paper. Looked on the computer. Played games on the phone. Did a load of laundry. Read newspapers online.
Then I went into my bedroom and had the notion to have a clear out. I was fairly ruthless. I managed to clear out half of my little wardrobe space and empty half the drawers. I actually have the smallest wardrobe of any other person I know. Just as well I am not into clothes that much. Although, were I fortunate to have one of those amazing rooms dedicated to clothes I am sure I would find a way to suddenly get very interested in clothes.
Then again, I have no space in my bathroom and still manage to house a giant collection of hair product. I actually hate vanity units underneath bathroom basins so I just have one cupboard to store my stuff in. The basin sits on a bench and is clear underneath. It's cleaner and by having limited storage space prevents me from filling it.
Were I to have a house with fifty rooms I would fill it. Same goes for cupboards. I like to collect things. Eventually you run out of room when you live in a small house so you have to collect small things. A big house would find me collecting big things. Like weird statues or strange pieces of furniture. And random chairs to put against walls.
Now if I had the money to collect what I wanted and live in a really, really big old home I would have to leave work to fulfil my deep desire to make it look like something out of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. It would be like Steampunk heaven.
After I had the bedroom clean out I took Mr Benny for a walk up the street to visit a big pet shop so that I could sink some money into their bank. I bought some more toys for him. Snacks. A new brand of dog food. He spent the whole time with his nose to the floor sniffing the doggy pong of previous visitors.
Now he has plenty of things to keep him busy when I am at work. He is at that age where he needs a bit more to do. The age of getting neutered actually. The age where most dogs are recommended for being neutered is six months. Benny will be six months on 22nd July. Initially I thought about waiting until he was twelve months for no logical reason whatsoever but I will be getting him done at six months. He is going through the humping stage which is not very welcome in genteel dog society.
We had a dog years ago that was not done and it was such a nuisance to take him for a walk as every other "undone" dog wanted a fight. Then, as he got older, he developed a most unpleasant condition which resulted in his anal glands getting blocked and his bum looked like a baboon's. He had to be taken to the vet to get the anal glands squeezed which was disgusting to both the eye and the nose. I only know it was disgusting because K was there when it was done. There was no way I was going to be in the same room.
The vet offered to show K how to do it himself at home to save the cost of a visit to the vet. Needless to say, that kind offer was refused.
So, that is a good enough reason to get Mr Benny's nuts cut off.
My son is on school holidays right now and has been a veritable slob for the past week. Playing games and watching DVDs. Most of his socialising is done via Skype and he chats to his school friends whilst playing online games. All that is okay but he does not eat much and if we don't make sure he has eaten breakfast before we leave for work he won't eat until after lunch.
Today he was not hungry until midday and then had a sandwich. As a result he felt really tired in the late afternoon and went to bed to sleep for an hour. So tonight he had to eat a big portion of lasagne to fill his empty belly. We went shopping to stock the fridge and pantry up with food for him so that he will hopefully eat a bit more during the day.
K and I were talking about our son's lack of interest in eating unless he is very, very hungry and how that he is so anti vegetable. We wondered what we ate as teenagers and I recall eating a lot of toast. Or cereal. More toast. Cheese. Black bread with lard and salt. Sweet food was not around in abundance as it is now. Chocolate was a treat. I do recall going over to the local milk bar as often as I could to get lollies or crisps. Anything from a bakery was the golden treat.
Now there is any type of food available in giant quantities. Any time of the day or night I can buy pretty much any food.
Well, this is a rambling post but that is okay. Rambling is good now and then. Yesterday I read an article in the paper that was written by a journalist who was doing some work in Paris. She was unable to find any English newspapers or magazines and so sat in her hotel room reading things on the Internet.
She made a comment how personal blogs are taking over the journalistic word these days. People writing about themselves. There was mention of how badly written the blogs were inclined to be. Questioned why people did not write about interesting things. It was as though the cyber space should only have room for journalists with interesting things to say.
The Internet, the television, the newspapers and other media are full of the stark and frightening reality of what happens in the world.
What's so wrong about people wishing to talk about things that connect them with other people. Or things that are just daily events. Or about things that matter to them.
The very ordinary things we do in life make us a little bit the same.
I like to read about the things that people do. Just as much as I like to hear about what is happening in a war zone. It's stuff.
It's life in all forms - even the boring bits. Oh, and these days some of the political journalism is about as boring as journalism gets. Beats everything else hands down.