I have decided that, rather than ignoring my Oura ring’s passive-aggressive messages telling me to move my lazy arse, I probably ought to start taking some notice. Otherwise there’s not much point in having a fitness tracker.
I have started dancing to try and achieve my step target, either when I come home after school or in the morning when I know it’s going to be a sedentary day. There’s no technique as such, just bouncing around to dance classics from the 90s and the early 2000s.
Unfortunately Louis Catorze is not a fan of this at all.
The last time I did it, he approached me, rearing up on his hind legs and screaming himself witless. So I decided to, erm, pick him up and dance with him in my arms.
He didn’t hate it. But he didn’t love it, either. When I put him back down again, he pitter-pattered off into the hallway and watched from afar, his face a mixture of disdain and sad resignation.
Unfortunately I pinged my ankle fifteen minutes in. I’m not super-happy about this but it’s great news for Catorze as he probably won’t have to put up with my dancing again, at least not for a while. It wouldn’t surprised me to learn that he’d summoned the powers of darkness to make this happen.
Here he is, making his feelings clear. Disapproval from a distance is still disapproval, non?
For more Catorzian capers, please visit http://louiscatorze.com
louiscatorze.com 
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