Sorry about that, folks. I've been sort of bad about the updates over the last two days. Thursday I don't know what happened, and Friday I was up until 2:00 AM or so doing a podcast with some very crazy folks. Nonetheless, I got back on the horse yesterday, and I'm about to go out and do tonight's walk with all the very, VERY chatty birds out there. I thought birds slept during the night -- shows what I know.
More when I come back from the walk.
LATER: Yeah, so that didn't go quite as well as I'd hoped, mainly because JJ came down to the door with me in the hopes that I'd let him go outside. Normally he's an indoor cat, but I know he gets very bored so sometimes I'll let him go out and follow him around the apartment building while he checks out trees, bushes, that sort of thing. After fifteen minutes or so, I pick him up and take him in the house, no problem.
Not tonight. He went out, rolled around on the sidewalk as per usual, went over to the A/C units to inspect them, then dove into a trio of bushes. I waited for him to come out.
Nothing. "JJ?" I call.
I see this little head poke out of the bushes and look at me as if I'm a total stranger, and he made this noise that I'd never heard him make before -- the only way I can describe it is as a warning meow (with more of a growly purr on the end of it).
So I stand there for a minute or two, waiting for him to come out. When he doesn't, I decide to pry open the bushes and see what's happening -- and the little bastard yowls at me. Thinking maybe he's stuck on something, I try to reach in...
...and he claws my fingers.
The FUCK? In the six years that I've had him, JJ has never, EVER scratched me on purpose. I jump back, pissed off, then try to prod him out with my foot. Yowling even louder, he takes a swipe at my leg (luckily protected by thick sweatpants and my gymshoes).
Time for the big guns. I pick up the water bottle, uncap it and dump it on the bush. Very reluctantly, he slinks out and heads to the front door, still giving me that warning sound every time I get near him. VERY cautiously, I open the door and he shoots upstairs.
Well, I have to follow in order to clean off the blood now dripping from my left hand. After doing that and dabbing on some triple antibiotic, I give JJ (who is giving me a foul look) some treats, refill the water bottle and head out on my walk, figuring that we both need to calm down before we can figure out what the hell was going on. When I get back, he's waiting on the rug inside the foyer.
Okay, I know he's bored stupid. Maybe he just wants to spend some time outside. So I open the door -- after a moment's hesitation, he goes out, and I sit down on the stoop to wait for him to do whatever it is he needs to do. Kill a bird, piss on a tree, whatever.
So what does he do? Rub his head against the brickwork, then head back to the door and meow piteously. Son of a bitch. I open the door and he STREAKS back in, as if freaked out of his tiny little head.
I figured he needed some TLC, so I spent twenty minutes playing with his rod-and-reel cat toy, then gave him a good brushing and reassured him that he's my favorite black cat. He's now snoozing quite happily on his bed, and I'm still wondering what the whole bush problem was all about -- I don't know if he was scared by something and was hiding or what.
I do know that he's not going outside again anytime soon. He'll just have to wait until we get a house with a yard that we can enclose with a cat-proof fence (aka the type that gives an animal wearing a collar a mild shock if it tries to cross it). Then I'll toss a collar on him and he can be the Great Black Hunter as much as he likes.
In the meantime, damn, my fingers hurt.
Saturday's total mileage: 510.01 miles to Isengard
Sunday's total mileage: 508.67 miles to Isengard
The title, by the way, is the closest I can come to the Psycho theme, which accurately reflects how I've been feeling today (well, that and 
I'm sitting here wearing a pair of jeans that I bought about two years ago. They were an emergency purchase, grabbed just before we flew to England to attend my SIL's wedding, and even though they were kinda small I bought them because I knew I wasn't going to get through an entire week on just two pairs of old black jeans, which were the only things I had at the time that fit me.
As shown in this shot (yes, I know it's blurred -- it was taken with my cameraphone), you can see Your Hostess just after finishing 40 minutes of cardio and before she prepares to throw the iron around. Just be grateful you can't see the rivulets of sweat coursing off my brow -- it ain't pretty, folks.
