It was in the cards aisle. "Excuse me!" she said. I leaped up and apologized. "I could see you were concentrating." she added. Her sly smile gave her away and I swear the tip of her tail quivered the way Sophie, my cat's, used to b4 she was about to pounce.
When I thought about it, which wasn't all that often, I credited the feral posture with helping keep me limber.
Occasionally, when accompanying Ms. Cook on her cat-sit rounds I noticed the "steps" some folks have that enable them to squat over the receptacle.
But with the post-infarction lassitude, Mr. Stomach has expanded to even greater proportions and he now, when I assume the position, exerts uncomfortable pressure on my heart. I'm consoling myself by appreciating how the increased distance (slightly) lessens der schtink.
Youse tink I should included a TMI warnin' at duh begginin'?