I had a terrible
night’s sleep. When the puppy is restless we all suffer. I finally dozed off
shortly after half past five only to be woken by "er indoors TM" alarm going off
only two short hours later.
I got up and had a go
on the scales. I was rather pleased to see I’ve lost another three pounds over
the last week. I’m now sixteen stones and eleven pounds. Probably still far too
heavy, but not as heavy as once I was.
Being conscious of the
calories in what I eat seems to work as a way of dieting for me. Take yesterday
for example. During the course of the day I had a few cups of coffee, and a
total of five biscuits. These five biscuits had more calories than my entire
breakfast.
As I scoffed my toast
and jam (two hundred and eighty calories)
I looked at the Internet. There wasn’t much going on; which was probably just
as well. Mind you a nephew was reposting hateful crap from “Britain First”. It never fails to amaze
me how many people believe the spiteful lies these people put out. I have a
theory… most of the people I see re-posting the racist rubbish are professional
dole-takers. Do they see refugees as competition for hand-outs? They shouldn’t
as *all* of the refugees of my
personal experience are hard-working people who generate the taxes to pay for
the professional dole-takers.
Once my toast was
scoffed Treacle swarmed all over me hoovering up toast crumbs. You’d thing that
dog hadn’t ever been fed; she is *so*
greedy. And with toast crumbs hoovered she then started a game which involved
her trying to chew me.
I put her on the floor
from where she went and had a mini-scrap with Fudge. They seem to like their
play-fighting. I don’t like it; it sounds horrible.
I put the leads on the
dogs and we went for a little walk round the park. As we went, Treacle cowered
in terror from every other dog we met. Those that Fudge didn’t hump, he
ignored. All things considered out walk passed off relatively uneventfully. It
is always a bonus when that happens. We took a rather circuitous route home and
eventually came home across the co-op field which was nowhere near as muddy as
I thought it might be.
Both dogs came home
rather clean; no post-walk bath today. I think Treacle saw that as something of
a disappointment. As always once home she jumped into the bath. I lifted her
out and she jumped back in. Does she like a bath?
As Netflix played “Star Trek: Discovery” I set the washing
machine loose on some laundry, and got out a needle and thread. The pockets of
a pair of trousers had worn through. It seems that the pockets are always the
first things to go in a pair of trousers. Do I carry too much rubbish? I bodged
the pockets back together as the dogs snored by my side.
After a second episode
of Star Trek I took myself off to bed. I would have slept better if I hadn’t
had a text from the boss just as I was nodding off. Problems with the early
shift tomorrow - could I stay at work an hour longer tomorrow morning? Whilst I’d
rather not, I am rather flattered to be asked to do so.
I then spent much of
the afternoon fighting with Treacle; I get cold feet when I sleep during the
day and had prepared myself a hot water bottle. She likes sleeping on top of
it. I probably got a couple of hours of shut-eye.
I gave up fighting with
her shortly after five o’clock when Fudge started barking for no reason, and
watched more Star Trek.
"er indoors TM" will be home
soon. I hope she cooks some scoff before I go to the night shift…
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