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.
I remember when I lost a bag of flour. It seemed huge. Then I lost a grandchild. Then two grandchildren. That was amazing. I’d like to lose another bag of flour but it’s not going too well. Of course if I would stop moving my hand to my mouth filled with snack food it would help.
Cat litter. When I scoop my cat litter I swear I smell like cat litter all day long. Or maybe I just have the smell of cat litter in my nose all day long. In any case it really ruins my day. But then unscooped cat litter is worse.