I need to get out more during the week.
Maybe by actually typing that sentence out, I'll no longer justify my walk to the other side of the house to check the mail as "getting out of the house."
Let me break this down: I live in a basement apartment, and for 8-10 hours a day, the only living beings that I'm in direct contact with are my two dogs and two cats.
Don't think you can get Cabin Fever with four animals? Boulder dash. It's gotten to the point that when Cindy gets home, I tattle on the animals.
Example (and I've said this more than once): "Babe, Beau is intentionally trying to piss me off and get my attention. He knocks over the trash so that I'll get up and feed him. He's such an asshole!"
Beau is a cat and has no fucking intention of ruining my day. Neither do the dogs when they do that annoying, frantic run to the kitchen every time I walk near it on the way to the bathroom. Of course, as I'm writing this, I've had dinner, I'm not stressed from work, and Cindy is sitting next to me on the couch, so things are a little clearer at the moment.
Maybe next week I'll try taking a little stroll down the street and grab some lunch. Outside. Away from... them. It's either that or lock them out of my office for ten minutes while I meditate with an Enya song in the background.
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