Day Hands

It’s a dreary, overcast day in Asheville. And that’s okay. I took Luke and Cinna for a walk this morning and somehow avoided being rained upon. I then baked a lemon-buttermilk cake and Russian tea cakes for my mother-in-law and mother, respectively. Yup, I did this whilst participating in conference call. As of tomorrow, I am officially furloughed. I shall apply for unemployment benefits mañana.

Yesterday’s workout had me like, wow, you need a rest day Paul. I settled for a relatively easy day and labeled it “recovery.” Again, exercise keeps me somewhat sane. Somewhat.

“Revelation” by Troye Sivan and Jonsi is one of my all-time favorite songs.

I worked out during the lunchtime hour.

10 RFT
10 unbroken windshield wipers
Wall crawl + strict wall-facing HSPU + pushup + jump and clap

10 RFT
10-count strict C2B pull-up
30-second weighted plank, 45#

Nothing overly challenging today. Uhm, except windshield wipers, which are a true core workout. I was pleased that I completed all 10 rounds in unbroken reps.

Whilst in plank I noticed how dry my hands have become.

I then completed a 20-count strict C2B pull-up, just because.


Prior to our relationship, Jeff had an an orange tabby named Bud. Most orange tabbies are male, so Jeff was surprised when Bud (named after a character from the Bill Cosby show) had kittens. But that’s another story. Bud lived to be 19 years old. Jeff and Bud were very close and Bud’s death deeply impacted Jeff. It had been more than a year since his death when I began suggesting that we get another cat. “It’s too soon,” Jeff would reply. I persisted. “Imagine all of the cats in need of a home. Let’s adopt an abandoned cat in need of a home.” We began to look at cats at local pet stores, but only those who were in need of rescuing. 

We visited quite a few places. One day we visited a pet store just a half a mile from our home in Gaypex (the “g” is silent, unlike most gays). A volunteer assisted us, and we let her know we were looking for a solid orange tabby, preferably male. She informed us that while she had some orange cats, none of them were solid orange. She then pointed to a kitten in a cage along with many other kittens. “He’s orange and white, but no one will want to adopt him. He only has 4 toes on one foot,” she informed us. “We’ll take him!” I immediately exclaimed. Both she and Jeff were taken aback. We spent time with him and his sibling, a white and black female kitten. Jeff and I fell in love with the orange kitten and asked when we could bring him home. The volunteer informed us that we would need to wait two months, as they would only allow a kitten to be adopted when it was six months old to ensure that the kitten had been effectively socialized. “Unless more than one kitten is adopted,” she said. “Then we’ll take the black and white kitten as well,” I said. Jeff looked at me with a stunned expression. “What? We never talked about adopting two kittens.” “You like orange cats and I like black and white cats. One for you and one for me.” And that’s how we came about adopting Zac and Meg, the two best kitties in the whole world. Jeff named Zac after Zac Efron and I named Meg after Meg from “Family Guy.” Like Peter Griffin, I know that Meg is short not for Meghan but for Megatron. 

I have never known two cats to be so much like dogs. Both Meg and Zac come when you call them, they insist upon being nearby at all times, and, like every dog that’s been part of the family, they sleep as close to me as possible. Meg in particular, and she likes to sleep on my chest. Yes, on my chest. When I eventually position myself to sleep on my side, she gets as close as she can, often draping herself over my hip. While Zac is Jeff’s and Meg is my cat, I’m nonetheless exceedingly close with both of them, and they are truly the first cats I’ve been attached to. Luke, Meg, and Zac get along exceedingly well, mostly because Luke is such a patient dog. Meg and Zac often rub against him and he allows them to do so. Meg and Zac also often try to eat Luke’s food. And often eat Luke’s food. As I often post on social media, “Bad kitties!”


If you’re going a good job you’ll be congratulated. If you’re doing a shitty job and your a narcissistic asshole you’ll be self-congratulatory.

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