My Cat Ate My Doctor's Note

My Dog Cat Ate My Homework Doctor's Note.

Yep.  That's right.  My cat has struck again.  As I've mentioned before, I had gall bladder surgery a few months ago.  Having a major organ ripped out through your belly button doesn't really leave your body in the best condition to go to Zumba or Cycling.  In order to get my money back for my gym membership, I had my Doctor write a note explaining my situation.  All I had to do was fax the letter to the Scary Gym Lady (see below):

and hope that, having already ruined enough lives that day, she would spare a little mercy and honor my request.

But once again my laziness prevailed and the Doctor's note sat under a pink magnet on my fridge for approximately a month and a half.  It wasn't until I needed to use that pink magnet to hold something way more important (tickets to two Avett Brothers concerts in September) that I decided I should do something about the note.  I'll take it to work with me in the morning and fax it from there, I thought.  Apparently, the note caught my cat, Roux's, attention at the same time.  (I'm not going to lie, there are times when I think Roux can read my mind...she really freaks me out...)  Except Roux didn't wait until the morning to take action.  She decided to do something about it in the middle of the night.

When I woke up in the morning, I saw it.  My Doctor's note was on the floor with a bite taken out of it.  And not just any bite.  The most crucial bite that could have been taken.  If this were a cinnamon bun, Roux had eaten the moist center, where the spiral ends and all the cinnamon-y goodness is contained.  Let's just say that Roux knows how to eat her paper.  She managed to take the most bland dish and find a way to savor it.  She had eaten the date.  Desire' had surgery on ------.  Without a date, I had nothing!  No proof of when the surgery actually took place.  I could have had this surgery 3 years ago for all they knew.  How Roux even got the note down is a question I'd rather not know the answer to.  How inconvenient!  Just when I had decided to be slightly motivated, Roux foiled my plans!

Aftermath:

Thanks, Roux.

Dez Vs. Nature

I've always had a complicated relationship with the outdoors--the complication being that I like nature, but I suck at it.  It all started when I was 12 years old and I went to a week-long summer camp in West Virginia with my best friend, Kristen.  Despite a variety of mishaps that indicated otherwise (including having a boy cast his fishing hook into my chest), I actually thought I was cut-out for camp life.  It wasn't until we embarked on our 3-day backpacking journey into the woods that I realized there was a problem.

We had partners for the hike that we shared a backpack with.  I'm not talking the latest neon-green JanSport that I had bought for my inauguration into middle school.  I'm talking one of those heavy-duty cross-country beasts.  A backpack of myths...something I had only heard about but certainly had never seen before.  Kristen, who has always been far more nature-inclined, offered to carry the backpack first so that I would take over at the half-way point.  After 4.5 miles, the time had come.

I've decided that it's best to convey what happened next in cartoon-format.

(Forewarning: I also have a complicated relationship with "Paintbrush for Macs")

I tried not to be intimidated:

But it was easily 3 times my size.  The camp counselor slung the beast onto my back and my body immediately started shaking.  The top of the backpack caved beneath the weight and formed a hat on the top of my head, covering my eyes.  It took all my strength to lift my right leg.  As I tried to find my footing for that first step, I kicked a tree root and it was game over.

I fell face-first into the dirt and couldn't get up.  I was being smothered by the backpack.  This is it, I thought.  This is how I'm going to die.  

Instead, the counselor made Kristen carry the backpack the rest of the way, allowing my traumatized self to enjoy a breezy 9-mile hike.

Fast forward to the present.  Now, I only camp during music festivals.  And even then, I cheat.  Refer to these loving portraits of me and my fan from our recent trip to Floydfest as proof:

How I do camping

It's the only way to go

While I've admitted to myself that camping isn't for me, I refuse to give up on hiking...but perhaps I should.  A couple of weeks ago, I went hiking in Shenandoah National Park with my friends Patrick and Chad.  The only thing funnier than going hiking when you suck at it is going hiking with people who are worse at it than you are.  This is what Patrick looked like the entire time:

Pretty much sums up Patrick's feelings about the hike

When Chad asked one of us to carry the backpack, I promptly fled and hid behind a rock.  I wasn't going there again.  On the way back, we were all pouring sweat and fed up.  The "gorgeous waterfall view" we were hiking to ended up being a tiny rock peeing way in the distance.  Chad had a grand idea of taking a short-cut that he knew oh so well...even though he had never been on this hike in his life.  Patrick and I were in the middle of smacking him (there was no way this was actually a short-cut) when we heard it.

A loud rustling in the trees.  What could it be?!!  It was getting closer.  Was it a bear?!  A wolf?!  A crazed lumberjack?!


We grabbed onto each other for dear life.   
SHHH!! 
DON'T MOVE.
DON'T SPEAK. 
DON'T BREATHE.

Huddled on an edge of this dirt path looking like a downtrodden version of Dorothy, The Lion, and The Tin Man, we waited anxiously.

A deer came into view.  It stopped to graze just before hopping onto the path about 10 feet from where we were standing.
   
Do deer hurt you?? 
They can!! If she has a baby around, she will attack us!!
We're dead.
Shhh!
I started pinching Chad on the arm.  This is all your fault!

We shared some panicked glances with the deer before she sprinted off.

What actually happened?

Peaceful deer stopping to graze right next to us, creating a gorgeous scene to end our hike.

What we saw?

Blood-thirsty savage

(My laziness outweighs my capacity for embarrassment, so instead of actually putting forth any effort on revising these cartoons, I posted them in their original glory.)

In light of this recent adventure, I think it's time to give up on my battle with nature.  I never stood a chance.