Sweater 1, Gatsby 0

Last night, we tried to take Gatsby for a walk after work, as is our daily ritual.

The temperature had dipped below 40 degrees, and Gatsby hadn’t been in weather that cold since last winter. So naturally, as good pet-owners, we forced him into put him in his sweater.

Gatsby hates his sweater. With the burning passion of a thousand suns. No, a million suns.

Getting the thing on him in the first place is no easy task. It requires catching him (usually by gently pulling him out from under a table by one or two legs, whatever is within reach), shoving (again, gently) his head through the hole and then somehow wrangling his paws (which at this point are writing in protest) through the “sleeves.”

Then he completely freezes up (see the first photo).

Yesterday, we succeeded in unfreezing him and actually got him out the door, which was an accomplishment in and of itself. But then after he did his business and walked approximately half a block, he was done. He sat his little butt on the cold concrete sidewalk (really, Gatsby? That was better than walking?) and refused to move.

Walk over.

He is a handsome little devil though, isn’t he?

Fridge facts

Right now the wind chill in Chicago is -10 degrees.

Also, everyone seems to be all up in arms about the Chinese president shutting down River North and messing up their commute, but I didn’t have any problems or notice anything going on. I was too busy making sure I could still feel my extremities and pretending I was on a beach in Maui.

When I imagined that the overweight guy trudging in front of me was actually a Hawaiian native carrying a tiki torch and beckoning me to follow him to a luau and pig roast, I actually started to feel a little warm.

It’s all about state of mind, people.

Anyway, this freezing cold weather reminds me of refrigerators, which reminds me of a conversation Will and I had with our friends Cynthia and Rick (Shout out: What up Cynthia and Rick!?) at brunch last weekend.

I don’t know how we got on the subject, but at one point Will blurted out that the contents of my refrigerator are shameful, or something to that effect (thanks for the support, hubby!).

I hadn’t really thought about it before, but I began listing out everything in my fridge, and that list went something like this:

  • Brita water pitcher
  • Butter
  • Leftover Thai food
  • Tortillas
  • Bottle of champagne
  • Shredded cheddar cheese
  • Ranch dressing
  • A half full bottle of Gatorade

That’s. It.

So what do the contents of my fridge say about me?

I think the answer is clearly that I am either a bachelor or a frat boy. But my refrigerator better watch what it’s saying because obviously that’s not true. (Check yourself before you wreck yourself, Fridge!)

It seems that people who have their life in order generally tend to go grocery shopping on a regular basis. At this point, that is not me.

Sadly, I still seem somewhat incapable of completing everyday lifestyle-related tasks in a timely manner.

But I’m making progress! This week, I did some responsible organized things like get our utility bills in order and take out the trash (and recycling!). Next week, I hope to vacuum the apartment, blog more and maybe buy some food.

We’ll see.