Grumbling

Even though I'm not supposed to work on Fridays, I had to go to work today because the people who foolishly hired me to be an integral part of their research team are currently scrambling to get a grant proposal finished.

Then I came home and immediately had to go out and run 6 miles. I wisely chose to run a new route so that I wouldn't be bored by the tedium inherent in running the same old trail for an hour. I didn't really assess the route before I started it, but I guess you could say it was quite pleasant, as long as you don't count the part at the end of the route where it suddenly turned into TWO STRAIGHT MILES OF NONSTOP MISERY HILLS. In other words, I didn't break any records today. Unless there are records for "Most Sweat-Soaked Shirt" or "Slowest Limp Up a Mountain" or "Running Face That Looks Most Like a Stroke In Progress." Or how about "Most Labored Breathing While Walking"?

I could come up with these for days, people.

AND THEN I got home and the whole apartment smelled like the hot wet litter box of Satan's own cat-beast, who is probably named "Buttsplosion," after his digestive problems. The reason the apartment smelled like that because Charlie, who I've recently renamed "Feces Factory" because I want everyone to be put off their meals just as I am every day, actually does have a litter box that sits in our dining room, the smell of which somehow expands to fill every inch of space in our unfortunately quite open floor plan. Since something had to be done to make the smell stop I pulled out the litter box liner and its contents, but then somehow the smell impossibly got EVEN WORSE, for reasons that are too disgusting to explain. And then I valiantly struggled my way out the door and across the parking lot with the Bag of Olfactory Nightmares, because it was WAY too heavy because someone - who is not me - put too much litter in it when they cleaned the box last time. So I, breathing through my mouth the entire time (and still tired from running 6 miles up and down the hills of woe and sadness), had to take a few steps, set the bag down, take a few steps, and set the bag down, all the way to the dumpster which obviously already has it in for me. And then I had to heave the bag in through that terrible small shoulder-level hole and pray with all my heart that it would go IN and not somehow tumble OUT and on to me, forcing me to burn myself alive just to be free of the smell.

Which thankfully did not happen. But the threat was very real.

In conclusion, it's been an exhausting day, so I could not possibly write you a blog post. Please forgive me.