Too bad for you...

So, our aqua instructor this Monday did Tobattas. (I think that's how it's spelled-- I'm pretty sure it's a neologism for "too badda for you.")  I approve of the principle-- even when I'm sucking wind so bad I'm breathing through my eyeballs--because they make you feel like you're really accomplishing something, and the results in terms of cardio improvement are measurable.

This instructor uses a tape--she gives us the moves during the ten second rest period, and then lets the tape tell us, "3-2-1 WORK!" which, again, in principle, is fine.  And for the first two out of four cycles it was.

And then, I had some other shit I absolutely HAD TO THINK ABOUT. Were Mason and Terry progressing? Is Fish Out of Water edited enough to let go of? Do the kids have a dentist appointment tomorrow?  And... oh, crap, is that the end of the cycle? And we're starting another-- Did I close the sliding glass door? Is it hot enough for the A/C to kick in? Is it going to rain again this year?

And so on.

I muddled through, catching maybe four of the eight WORK! segments of the cycle, but at the end, when the instructor said, "So, did that do it for you guys? Do you feel like you worked?"

"It was great before my ADHD kicked in, and then I just sort of dog paddled."

Everyone sort of laughed, but I have to say, I tend to forget that I deal with a quirky brain until it quirks me right out of the now and I spend my time wandering in the then.  I need a contingency plans for workouts, I think--you don't really get the bennies of the workout if you forget you're working midway through.

*  *  *  *

And last night, Mate and I were settling down for an uneasy spring nap when we heard something massive hit the door to the bedroom.

We sat up in bed (okay, I sat up in bed) and we both heard an imperious, "MEOW!"

"Oh my God," I said, "was that Steve?"

"I don't care," Mate said, rolling over to go back to sleep.

"Should I let her in?"

"Sure."

"She'll just do that all night."

"I know she will."

So I got up and opened the door.

And my cat and I bitched at each other five minutes.

"Well, moron, come in!"

"Why'd you close the door?"

"So we could sleep."

"I can sleep with the door open."

"We can't--the kids keep the light on."

"Fuck the light. Open the door."

"Fuck the door--get in the bedroom!"

"I don't wanna!"

"Look, you asshole cat, you got me out of bed to let you in, now get your furry butt in the room."

"Make me."

So I dragged her in and closed the door and crawled into bed.

And she jumped on the bed and proceeded to head-butt Mate until he pet her and then pushed her into the clean clothes because who died and made HER Sheba Queen of Cats?

And this morning she woke me up with more head-butts.

I am not sure where this cat got her attitude, but the dogs fear her. *looks around furtively* I'm starting to be a bit leery myself.