It’s so played out, but in 2012 I need to make sure Princess Piggy Poo gets her fair share of exercise. I’m tasked with providing her with daily “floor time.” The thing about floor time in 2011 was that Princess Piggy Poo found a hiding spot and just sat, which completely defeated the purpose.
Princess Piggy Poo’s gym is the safe confines of the bathroom and her refuge is behind the toilet. I coax her from behind her porcelain protector and she scurries around the tile floor sliding for survival until after lapping the entire bathroom—thoing—she collides with the spring doorstop and regains her safe spot behind the commode.
While this activity does get her heart rate up, it seems more like torture than exercise. I know, you think exercise is torture, too, but you’re not a cute, furry prey animal. As Princess Piggy Poo’s personal trainer, I want to make floor time fun for her. I really need to figure this out, because if she isn’t enjoying it, there’s no way I’ll be able to keep up this resolution.