34 pounds of cat litter

That box, necessary to our house because we inherited Mother’s cat, the infamous Tiffi, stays in my cart when I go through the check-out line. Neither I, nor the cashier, have any desire to lift it; two lifts, into my cart and then into my trunk are enough for me.

It struck me the other day that I have lost more pounds than that box weighs. That’s kind of scary and a real incentive to keep it going. I suppose I am going to look at tasty things now and see and smell cat litter. Lordy, what a thought. Having gotten it in my head, however, I need to use some AmeliaJake modifying tactics: I have to divide the list of tasty foods into two categories – and right now I’ll just call them “Litter” and ‘Not-litter”.

I’m going to have to do better than that. . . Oh, yeah. Rats, why did I ever get this thought in my head? And why did I type “rats”? Why?! Rats and cats.

I’m over-reacting. I know myself; I’ll overcome this and be nibbling a cookie before you know it.