Batman is pissed. I’m not sure why, but I can seem him staring at me out of the corner of his eye. I’m never sure why Batman is pissed, maybe he’s unhappy or grumpy. I don’t really know.
There are times when I worry that I’ll be a bad father because Batman hates me. But then I remember that he’s a cat, and cats are generally assholes…and while there is a possibility my kid will be an asshole, it’s highly unlikely he’ll be as much of an asshole as a cat.
Our mailman delivered roughly 2 years worth of lost mail today. Which consisted of several BCBS letters, several returned invitations, a few failed Christmas cards, several bank statements and a video game.
Which, you know, isn’t bad for the USPS in Chicago.
One thing that was accurately sent was the results of my health screening that I did at work a few weeks ago. It was a booklet and had a lot of green/red/yellow colors in it to let me know where I stand as far as my health is concerned.
Let’s just say that if this were a street, we’d be pretty backed up. Lots of red and yellow on my little sheet. Which is more than a little disconcerting unless you consider how many stories there are of me eating food. Lots of food. Don’t get me wrong, I do exercise, but my body is a hoarder. Like, a mega hoarder. Like, if you were to clean out this house you’d probably find dead cats or other animals under the magazines, boxes of stuffed animals and pictures of David Hasselhoff in there. (I’m assuming that’s what my excess “Todd” is made out of).
Whenever a little goes out, the body wants a lot more back in. So it shouldn’t have come as a surprise to me when my results pointed out that I had high cholesterol and triglycerides. And not high high, but high enough that it’s important for me to start taking better care of myself…for the kiddens. (ewww, I’m upset with myself for typing that, but at this point I’m unwilling to erase it because I did this and I need to live with myself.)
Seriously though. I need to make sure I am available for future use, ya dig? Like it’d be seriously uncool for me to check out early when people rely on me. Or person, relies on me. And eventually, once I convince Stax that having more of me around is not a terrifying thing, then I will have people who rely on me.
Those people will be little and will likely not care about the state of my heart for many years and if they are anything like I was they will go straight after it by doing P-O-T or taking weed pills or whatever it is kids will do when I’m old and uncool (Pssst, that’s already now).
The other thing I need to do is cut our stress. Which is hard, because I apparently like stress almost as much as I like pizza. Soooo, this is going to be a real problem for me. I’m looking at this mountain of stuff I need to accomplish and I’m already getting stressed out, so you gotta ask yourself. Is it a Catch 22? How does one not get stressed out about destressing yourself in order to be healthy? Tell me? Is it an apple a day keeps the heart attack away? I DON’T REMEMBER THE RHYME FOR THIS SHIT!
I do however, remember that I’ve got a groovy little lady at home (she’s not at home, she works and is a strong independent woman) who I plan to live a long and happy life with. Plus when this bod goes all crazy hot on her she’s going to lose it. We’ll see who has to convince who to make babies then Stax. (JK, my wife loves me as I am, she’s the best).
Todd for President (of sexy bods) 2016.
P.S. If you’re interested in following me on Instagram you can do that at @toddawatomi. Not sure why I decided to add that to this post, but honestly you’re not my mom so why do you care. (Mom, when you read this, you are my mom…but you don’t have Instagram so why do you care?)
P.P.S JK, I love you mom. (But seriously, get Instagram and start taking pictures of your food.)