We love them. I mean, come on, look at these faces!
Percy is the friendliest, most curious cat you’ll meet. He will let Scarlett do whatever she pleases. Including but not limited to putting him in a shopping cart to drive around the house.
Oliver is filled with anxiety and no one has ever seen him but us (and of course the vet). People don’t even realize we have a second cat if they come over. The woman who watches the cats while we are on vacation leaves me little tidbits in her report everyday about “Oliver sightings” which are usually that he stuck his head out from the hallway and then ran back into the bedroom.
This week was our yearly trauma. We went to the vet this morning which is always a debacle.
Percy, because he’s a reasonable cat, just got into the carrier with no effort or fuss.
Oliver, on the other hand, was a strategic undertaking that still left me bleeding and wounded. Both of us are now traumatized from the experience. The vet heard a heart murmur which I’m pretty sure was stress enduced. Hell, I might have had a heart murmur at the time. There were also the sad cries in the car. Oliver was more frantic and desperate. Percy was a long, low lament of the inconvenience we were putting him through. It’s a five minute drive, by the way.
That being said, for fuck’s sake, I just spent $612 on a vet appointment, including vaccinations, tests, and heartworm medication.
I think the bit that really annoys me is NOT the fact that it cost me so much money, but that I have almost $500 sitting in an flexible spending account for work that I can’t use for this. I’m probably not going to use it by the end of the year either. Why can’t I use this for ALL medical related bills – pets included? WHY????
Of course, I also buy the fancy Blue Buffalo food which runs about $40 a bag now, so they are not cheap to keep around. There you have it. Pet ownership is a double edged sword. There is infintie cuteness and then some pretty hefty bills. But they are totally worth it.
Its that time of year again where I begin this process with hope that this year I’ll finish and joy at the idea of writing. Then I spend 30 days punishing myself and feeling guilty when I fail miserably.
It isn’t that I don’t like this time of year. I do. I remember all the things I love about writing when I set my goals and update the projects that I didn’t finish in that month but ulimately finished. I start this thing every year with the intention of meeting that 50,000 word threshold. That doesn’t mean i’ve written a complete book (because mine range anywhere from 75K to 110K) but it does means I’m halfway there. I’m always good for the first week or so and then life/work/family/etc just gets in the way.
this is not an excuse, just reality. I realize that I could get up and spend time writing or stay up late to meet my goals. These are all things I could do. I’m going to be honest with you though, I have a hard enough time getting to sleep and staying asleep that I’m not going to jeopardize any sleep I might get by shortening the time I have to get there.
Also, i’ve realized that I work best with natural light and I am severely lacking that in my office. I would like to add windows all along this side of my house but Ross says no, because of money. boooooo
Listen, I’m going to give this a go again this year and not beat up too much on myself if I don’t make it. If it gets me back into the habit of writing on a regular basis, I’ll be happy. I think that is a laudible goal.
It was our anniversary last week. I’m not sure which day, they’re all a blur. We didn’t really celebrate with a dinner or anything. In fact, I think Ross was working so I’m pretty sure it was just me and Scarlett on the 6th or 7th of October. Here’s the thing, we were either married on 10/6/2007 OR 10/7/2006. I have no idea which one. This means that we’ve either been married for 15 or 16 years. Dyslexia is a bitch! I’ve just started saying that “we’ve been married for like a 100 years” and that seems to cover it. I know we started dating in 2004. The ONLY reason I know this is because that’s when I started working at my current employer and the year is LITERALLY in my employee ID number.
So, to celebrate this anniversary that neither of us can remember . . . we bought a new mattress and boxsprings. Our anniversary was really the justification for the purchase since I’m pretty sure we bought that mattress before we were married. There were divets in the mattress where we had slept for the last 100 years (see how that works). It was like crawling out of a pothole every morning. Also, I don’t want to think about how gross that mattress was.
We went to the same place we bought the other mattress and got the same thing. I need to sleep on a slab of granite. Anything soft and I either won’t sleep or I wake up stiff. I walk in the door and ask for the firmest mattress they have. You don’t bounce on this thing. It’s wonderful.
Here’s the thing though. Its so GOD DAMN HIGH! I feel like I might need a guardrail so I don’t break my neck if/when I fall off. I then went and bought a fluffy mattress pad (which is amazing) and just made it higher. I was really afraid the sheets wouldn’t fit.
Side note – the new height of this bed has made it really easy for the hefty cat to get up on the top of the headboard. I’ve woken up a few times to a cat staring down at me which is unnerving.
Even having a pair of orangey eyes staring down at me hasn’t mattered though because I have passed the fuck out which has been lovely.
I don’t know how to deal with this. Or even if I should.
This whole conversation began because a friend of mine and I were talking about moving and how I was never moving again because, it took so long and I had hired movers the last time. Part of the problem was that I scheduled the movers, when we sold the house which was 30 days or more before closing and I still had to pack. If any of you have hired movers, they ask you the size of your house (how many bedrooms, bathrooms, etc). Then they ask you how many boxes. How the hell am I supposed to know how many boxes? I said 100 because that sounded like a lot.
Turns out, that’s not that many. I had almost 60 boxes just of books.
That’s when she accused me of being a book hoarder. My response was that I had a library – very defensively by the way.
It is true. I do have a room dedicated as a library. And maybe I do have several copies of the same books (for various reasons that I shall not disclose here because I don’t want to-LOL). I’ll be honest, there are just books everywhere. We’re not tripping over them and, quite frankly I still have space left on my shelves so I feel like I’m good.
In case you’re wondering…
Then I have my office bookshelves…
Then the books just lying around…
Then the books that I’ve stockpiled and haven’t read yet…
For this box, Ross and I like to play a game when I pick one up where he guesses which year it was published and how long I’ve been sitting on it.
Okay, now that I put it like that, I might have a problem. I’m not sure that I care though and it won’t stop me from buying more books. I am willing to embrace my book stash and claim my status as a book hoarder.
But the reality is that I’ve decided that I’m never moving again. They’ll have to remove my cold, dead body from beneath the mound of books that collapsed on me and crushed me.The only way I’m leaving this house is if we win a bagillion $$$$. At that point, I will just start fresh and the only things I’ll be taking with me are my books. At that point, I will just buy everything new and expand my library to epic proportions.
It looks like a hurricane went through here. There is just random shit everywhere. I’m not going to lie, i’ve kinda given up arguing with people to pick it up.
There are toys everywhere. Scarlett’s room is currently oozing out into the hallway.
There are dirty socks in places they don’t go because both Ross and Scarlett just take off their socks and leave them places.
There are bits of legos all over the floor. One of the cats stepped on one the other day, jumped because if you’ve stepped on a lego you know that shit hurts, then gave me a dirty look-like, those are my legos. Those cats know better.
Also, I don’t understand why no one knows where anything goes??? They live here. They got it from somewhere. Why can’t they figure out how to put it back?
This is a conversation that often occurs in my house:
Ross or Scarlett: Mommy/Sweetheart, do you know where X is?
Ross or Scarlett: Where is it?
Me: You left it X.
Ross or Scarlett: Oh, okay. Thanks.
Me: There’s a trick you can use to know where all your stuff is.
Ross or Scarlett: What?
Me: PUT. YOUR. STUFF. AWAY.
This is now my life. I always wear shoes in the house (flip flops, Toms, or slippers – nothing that goes outside), because I know the dangers of what could be on the floor.
I’ve been watching a bit of Mystery Science Theater 3000 lately. And by lately, I mean in the last week or so. Mostly because I’m between books and I’m not ready to start something else and there’s nothing I want to watch. Although, I have discovered euronews on sling and that’s good for about an hour until the feed repeats. Then I’m back to having nothing to watch.
Okay, so here’s the thing . . . I don’t get it. I understand the movie part. Right, we all do that. Make fun of the movies as we watch them. Especially if they’re horrible. What I don’t get is the pre and post commercial break shenanigans. Why do you need that? Its not really funny, a bit awkward, and slows everything else down. Honestly, its almost painful to watch.
Is this a guy thing? Do dudes find that shit funny?
The whole subplot of the “satellite of love” thing is strange, unnecessary, and most of the time incoherent. I realize I’m complaining about some shit that doesn’t matter. I probably sound a bit like a Boomer, “In my day”, blah blah blah. I feel old just even putting this out there. this started in 1988. I’m the key demographic since I was 10 years old when it started. Even in the 1990’s, I couldn’t get beyond the shenanigans in my teens which is prime MST3000 time. Althougth, to be fair, I was watching a lot of TCM in my teens so maybe I am a secret Boomer????
NO! I am a tried and true Gen Xer!
Are there things in popular culture that you just don’t get? Let me know so I don’t feel so ALONE!
So, today is picture day for my lovely daughter. She’s in the second grade this year and I don’t have high hopes for these turning out well. Based on previous years pictures, something miraculous would have to happen for these to turn out well; like she steps off the bus and they immediately wisk her off to take her picture. I’m pretty sure that doesn’t happen.
They have gotten progressively better over the last two years . . . kinda.
The below is from last year. She looks fine. Her hair still looks resonably good and there are no obvious paint/food/etc stains on the shirt. However, the expression on her face is somewhere between “this is a proof of life picture” and “my face got stuck in the Joker position but I’m not sad about it”. Why are her nostrils so big? Is she trying to breathe fire? I don’t even know.
Her kindergarten year is a whole other story . . .
What the actual fuck happened here. She’s a hot mess. It looks like she ran a marathon before taking this picture or maybe wrestled a bear. By the look on her face, I say she won. That expression is a very, “yep, I just kicked the ass of a bear on the playground”.
Today, I have put my daughter in a cute dress and done her so that it won’t look like a creature could have nested in it. I hope that’s enough because that’s all I can do. To be honest though, I’m kinda hoping for another one of these. They’re hilarious.