Mickey Gilley is gonna sue me, but what the hell. For those of you who don’t know the reference, GET OFF MY LAWN!
Being a long range commuter (70 miles + each way, each day) I havfe to admit my diet leaves a lot to be desired. It seems like I’m unable to resist the temptations of McDonalds, Taco Johns, and where ever else I happen to pass on my way to and from my intended destination. The everlovin’ of course is aware of this, because among my many faults I am a terrible slob. The passenger side floor is fileld to the brim with the detritus of my dietary indescretions. “Taco Johns today?” she asks, with an arch of one eyebrow telling me that she is NOT amused. That’s not to say that she is imperious, holier than thou or anything else, she just tries to keep an eye on my diet so she can hopefully keep me around a bit longer.
I think the hardest thing about avoiding such temptations is that driving bores the hell out of me. If I had the money, I’d have a Google self driving car right now. To me, the height of luxury would be climbing into my vehicle, punching in my destination and then sitting back and reading my phone or listening to the radio without the distraction of trying to avoid flaming death by veering off the road and into a ditch somewhere. Not gonna happen in my lifetime. The only hope I really have is to find someplace to work where I can telecommute instead.
Telecommuting is a bit of a razor edge unfortunately. On one hand you can climb out of bed and go straight to work in your shorts if you really want to (I’ll thank you to keep your mental images to yourself, I know they’re not pretty) but on the other hand, my family, meaning my dogs, don’t seem to be aware of the fact that if I’m working I can’t be getting up every five minutes to let them in and out. Toby is especially bad about this. First Buster the Lhasa Apso goes out. After he comes in, Toby the Flat Coated Retriever has to go out and check what Buster did. Then when I let Toby back in, Buster feels he has to go out and see what Toby did, and on and on until I think I should just give it all up and become a doggie doorman. Toby is especially bad. He walks to the door, then walks back to me. Even if I tell him “No! You just went out!”, he continues back and forth and back and forth like a pooch pendulum too the door and back to me. Whine a bit, then walk back to the door. Lay down after I tell him to lay down, for about 5 minutes before getting back up rather creakily (Toby is 9 or 10) and then walking back over to me to whine a little more and then walk back to the door. Essentially it’s Chinese Water Torture with 4 legs.
So I guess it’s really unhealthy food on one hand or mental infirmity brought on by my dog. Maybe I should just start taking the dogs for a walk, they’d be too tired to bug me and I could use the exercise. Who am I kidding.