Kitten, gym and mouse updates

It's not been quite so easy to blog every day over the long weekend – I had imagined that our time would be fairly free, but it didn't quite work out like that.
Not a small amount of time was spent attempting to locate the kittens, Castor and Pollux, who appear to have become escape artists of the highest calibre. So many times in the past we've had cats who've been killed on the road or who've been attacked by other animals, sometimes fatally, so my parents are a wee bit overprotective. But despite my dad's best efforts to strategically place chickenwire to prevent escape, Polly especially seems to be always able to get out (although then less able to get back in again), although it was Cassie who caused all the trouble on Monday. Cue much walking round the block, rattling the cat treat container in an ineffective attempt to lure her home.
Also got a fair number of chores done whilst I was there, including throwing out a ton of papers from my filing cabinet which still resides in my Mum's room (no space for it here, so she's going to empty it and flog it). Threw out a whole load of old client papers and research materials, which made me feel a bit odd. Kept all the stuff to do with the old business. Lots of dark memories in that filing cabinet. I'm glad they're not here in London with me, I don't need them.
Then yesterday was a flurry of going to the gym and dealing with email and client work. A good, productive day, but a day that passed way to fast. I barely realised that I hadn't blogged before the chance to was gone. I need to try harder this week though, not to let myself slip again. It's really hard sometimes to find the time to write, but it's got to be at the top of my priorities again.
The gym is actually going well. I never thought I'd enjoy it this much, actually, but although it can be hard to haul my ass out of bed that early, I do feel good once I'm there. Of course, the fact that I weighed myself down in Dorset and discovered that I've actually put on half a stone did not go down so well. I'm now the same weight I was at 19, after putting on 3 stone in Australia. That's enough to make me swear off Coke and chocolate until I've lost a stone.
Also need to put a bit more effort into ensuring that I get my five portions of fruit and veg a day, although yesterday's consumption of twelve medium sized tomatoes in the form of soup was probably a bit much. I had intended to freeze half of it but, well, I was hungry.
Regarding what I'm doing at the gym, I had my second session with the 'personal' trainer last week, who added a few more machines to my agenda, including a steppy army swingy thingie, and a calfy squeezy thingie. She attempted to add some more machines that exercise my arms, but as I started pulling against the weights I could feel my scar going taut – not good.
Kev and I have about 40 mins each morning to do our workout, which I think is quite enough, but we can't fit in all the machines we've been given to do. I suppose the smart thing to do would be to rotate them, but instead, I'm just dropping the machines that make me use my arms. The scar twinges sometimes, and I'm still rather paranoid that if I use it too much I'm going to end up with a huge red stripe – it's already widened a bit but not too much. I don't want it any wider.
Plus I loath the steppy army swingy thingie (the crosstrainer, for those that know). I have fuck all co-ordination, and the damn thing nearly makes me feel seasick, so I'm just not going to bother with it. I'm quite happy with the treadmill, bike, and the machines that focus on my legs. It'd be nice if I could keep up with Kevin when we go out walking, instead of me holding us back.
Meantime, we have a guest. As I was sitting on the sofa this morning, slowly waking up, a small mouse ran out from under my feet, heading for the space under the fridge. I'm not scared of mice, but I will admit it did surprise me, and I may possibly have let out a rather strangled yelp. Unfortunately, this nearly gave MrA a bit of a heart attack.
Whilst I was yelping, a part of my brain was watching with amusement as the poor mouse struggled to gain traction on the slippery laminate flooring, its little legs going all ways. I have no idea where it was – I still have Mr Neil's keyboard in its box under my coffee table as I've yet to get to meet up with its rightful owner – so I'm wondering if it was in that, looking for food or nesting material.
Either way, this explains the godawful stench in the bathroom when we got home Monday night. There's no doubt in my mind that that was the smell of rotting mouse, probably under the bath or cabinet. From memory – yes, I've been through this before – it takes about 3 days for a rotting mouse to stop smelling, so I'm betting it died on Saturday.
Time to break out the human mousetrap, I'd say.