Let me call you Megan, I’m in love with you.

This morning, I woke up at Ned’s.

Look at me, trying to be all compelling. You won’t BELIEVE what happens next!

Actually, you will. I went home and let Edsel out. That’s it.


On Thursday, I took ridiculous Edsel to the vet, because he’d been chewing on himself and scratching and was driving me insane, and what a great mom I am. Okay, I’ll get you medical help now that your suffering is annoying me. Anyway, he’s got allergies, probably to the environment and I hope not cats, because if so he’s going to the glue factory.

My friend David is one of like 29 kids or something. Catholic. Anyway, one of his 86 sisters–and whenever he tells a story about one of his sisters, he’ll say, “My sister Megan” or whatever, and in my mind it’s just the same short dark Italian girl. They’re all one girl to me. Sort of athletic and preppy and not fussy. Which, truthfully, adequately describes all 86 of his sisters, so I’m not wrong.

ANYWAY, one of his 86 sisters–we’ll say Megan, to be safe. She’s kind of a short, dark, unfussy Italian girl. Megan was allergic to their cat, Gus. So they had a family meeting to decide whether to get rid of Gus or Megan.

Gus won.

That was back in the ’70s, when you just “got rid” of pets and people didn’t gasp and report you to the authorities. I love animals more than anyone, and even I’m sick of the sanctimonious pet people. Ima call you all Megan from now on. You’re all just globbed into one person. Sanctimonious Megan.

SO HE’S ON THE ‘ROIDS, Edsel is, for his allergies, and I’m to give him half a pill morning and night for ages. The schedule is on the fridge. This means that he’s extra-thirsty and extra-pee-y, which for Edsel means he pees twice a day now. No one holds it longer than Edsel. And you’re all, “I’ll go outside with you, Edsel” and he still won’t pee.

Then you get him on a walk, and he dips into his savings. He minds his pees and Qs. He serves the peee-no noir. No one pees as early and as often as Edsel on a walk. I mean, does he have a special reserve just for walks? It would appear so.

it just way of edz peeeple.

Along with giving him ‘roids, they said to give him an oatmeal bath, so on Thursday night I did, and that is when I made myself sick. No, I didn’t look in the mirror, Hilarity Clinton.

The bottom of my tub has this grippy part built in, and it gets grimy, and it used to be I could Magic Erase it or spray bleach water on it and it’d be good as new. But as the years have ticked by, it’s not cleaning so well. So, after Edsel’s bath, I had to clean the tub anyway, so I filled the tub up and added bleach and let it sit there for awhile in the hopes of cleaning the grippy.

All that ended up happening was I got the grippe. Oh my god, did the smell of that bleach make me sick. And be sure, someone, to warn me about ammonia like I’m 7 years old. I KNOW.

I drained the tub, opened the windows, and had a terrible bad-sleep night, because my headache and nausea kept waking me up. Plus, the grippy is still grungy. There was a sentence.

I dragged myself to work, because I’d promised another account I’d fill in for them yesterday while their regularly scheduled person was out, and I found a really good mistake that Griff made, and right there made it all worthwhile. But I felt rotten all day.

At some point, Ned called me. He was in South Carolina, because his company has offices all over yonder and he has to make presidential appearances and wave at people from the back of the convertible and so on. “You want to do something tonight when I get back?” Ned asked, and I really have to stop hanging out with Ned.

“Okay, ” I said, as I had no plans. At the end of the workday yesterday, I wandered into the bathroom and one of the whippersnappers was putting on makeup. “Are you going out tonight?” I asked her.

“Yeah,” she said, looking in the mirror. “A bunch of us women are getting drinks right now.”

“…Oh?” I said.

She snapped her makeup shut. “Have a good night, June!”


So, yeah, no plans.

The thing is, he got stuck in Charlotte traffic, and then you know how Ned is. Here is what always ALWAYS happens when you make plans with Ned. I get home around 5:30 every day. Ned always finds a way to not get home till almost 8:00. He either works late, goes to the gym, works late AND goes to the gym, gets a massage (bad back. It seems to be working, though), stands in a parking lot till 7:45 to annoy me, whatever.

So THEN he’ll CALL me sometime between 7:30 and 8:00, and sigh, “Wooo!”

That wooo. That wooo has come to incite fury in me. Isn’t it funny how a person’s things can annoy THE FUCKING SHIT out of you after some time?

“Wooo! I gotta get something to eat.”

Every time. When we were first dating, when we lived together, now. Same goddamn thing. It’s 8 p.m. and woooo, Ned needs to get something to eat. And he can’t just open a can of ravioli like any normal American. Ned means he wants to go to a fairly fancy sit-down restaurant, order an entire meal with a salad and drinks, and THEN do something.

Every time. It was even addressed in therapy, and there was a great use of our dollars.

So what Ned really means is sure, you’ve been waiting around since 5:30, and here it is almost 8:00, but now you have to come to a restaurant with me and watch me eat, since you of course ate two hours ago. THEN we can “do something.”

Back when I liked Ned, I used to wait, starving, for him to call. Starving and in full I-like-this-guy makeup.

This year, seeing as we aren’t actually dating anymore–or if we are we’re fundamentalist dating, seeing as there’s no sex–THIS year, I’m not doing it. I’ve either been saying, “I’ll just see you another day” or “Call me when you’ve eaten” or whatever. Especially on a Friday, where every sit-down place Ned will deign to go to will have a 45-minute wait.

So when I did that last night, he said, “Let me see if there’s something I can make here.” But of course Ned is one of those people whose cupboards contain bags of dried beans and rice, things you have to actually prepare for an hour. Back when he wasn’t president and couldn’t afford to eat out every single night, just three or four nights a week, he’d come home at 7:30 and cook a sweet potato for dinner.

Do you have any fucking idea how long that takes?

All of this to tell you that I eventually got to Ned’s at 9:45, I am not making that up, and we went to a little corner bar in his neighborhood that I like, as it is a mix of shaggy old professors I’d like to bang and college kids. But when I got to Ned’s, he said, “Will you drive? I’ve already had two drinks with dinner.”


So when we got there, I was concerned about drinking and driving, even though it’s on exactly the same street as Ned’s house, and about half a mile’s drive. The point is, I had half a drink and stopped out of concern. Ned had two more drinks and spent most of the time leering at college girls.

At this point it was 11:30, so we decided to go back to his place and rent Whatever Happened to Baby Jane, and I was really into it for the first 20 minutes, then next thing you know, Ned and I were 100% asleep and I’ll never know what happened after (spoiler alert) Jane served Blanche the parakeet for lunch. I knew nothing good was in that parakeet’s future.

It was nearly 2:00 and I was exhausted, so I slept at Ned’s. Uneventfully. Then I woke up at 8:00 this morning all, WHAT THE FUCK AM I DOING HERE?

“Where you going?” asked half-asleep Ned, as I slithered into my clothes. “Edsel’s on prednisone,” I told him, and got out of there.

It turns out, my neighborhood at 8:15 on a Saturday morning is teeming with fucking people. Where’s everybody running to? Apparently, like, running groups go past my house, and who knew? They’re probably called Run Past June’s REM.

Also, Edsel did not give two shits about me not being there. I had to force him to go pee, as usual.

So that was my Friday, and today I have freelance work, and grocery shopping, and laundry. Also, I finally ordered paint for my front door; the store will alert me when it’s in…


The color is called Spontaneous. Which is a polite way of saying, “Impulsive.” Welcome to my door. Welcome to my life.


Just one more thing before I go: Last night on my walk with Edsel, while Ned was harvesting wheat to make bread or whatever, Eds and I were on our usual route when he stopped and seemed very interested in a yard. There was a big dark cat in the dusk, and I saw the cat had something in his cat lips.

“Oh, look, Edsel! What’s the kitty got?” I asked, because I am an asshole who says things like “kitty.”

Answer: A mouse.

More detailed answer: My very own “kitty,” Steely Dan, was eleventy houses away killing mice in someone else’s yard.

He was so happy to see us, Killer SD the Wanderer was. He dropped his poor mouse victim and sauntered over to us and came home when we did, all proud. I should magnet his mouse to the fridge. I’d been wondering if he was going to be a hunter. I mean, God designed that cat for cat-related greatness. He may outhunt poor Iris. Because he’s got the whole two eyeballs thing working in his favor.

I’ll report back if I end up in some other ex’s bed this weekend.



42 thoughts on “Let me call you Megan, I’m in love with you.

  1. Glue factory! And a friend at my knitting group (no, it isn’t all little old ladies with white hair in buns and cute little half-frame glasses sitting in rocking chairs, even though that is what even I picture when I say “knitting group”) can’t get over the fact I have 6 kids; so whenever she is responding to something I’ve said, she’ll say, “Yeah, that’s what happens when you have 12 kids” or 15 kids or whatever number she feels like throwing out there at the moment, and then we’ll both go back to our knitting, oblivious to the fact that some newbie to the group is sitting there staring at me in wonder/horror.

    That anecdote was in reference to the guy with 86 sisters, by the way. You’re welcome.


    1. Oh, I SO want to be in a knitting group but am worried I’ll fail. It sounds fun . I suppose one must already KNOW how to knit though. Sigh.


  2. Thank you for the Saturday post that I first read Saturday evening and have read for a second time today. I like your choice of paint color and am looking forward to seeing it on your front door. Our guest left this afternoon so we will now return to our regularly scheduled schedule. Unlike Tee, our guest was several decades older than her 5-year old visitor.


  3. I hate being the last to arrive at the party. But I had tickets to a big fancy brunch event yesterday. We had gold wrist bands and giant VIP lanyards and such so that we could go to the private room where there were CHAIRS! This event was on 3 floors of a museum plus the outdoors and there were only tables and chairs on the 3rd floor. The food was excellent and so were the alcoholic beverages. I have no idea what they offered the non-alcohol drinking people besides coffee. Anyway, we went in an Uber and Ubered back home again and decided that it was the perfect time for a nap. Slept till 5:30, then went shopping and bought food to make for dinner. Then, since I had taken a 2 hour nap I couldn’t sleep last night and binge-watched the first 4 episodes of OITNB. Now I am all off-schedule and don’t know what to do with myself.

    June, I loved this post! always love the Saturday posts. Can not wait to see the new front door painted!


  4. You ordered paint? And to think, all of these years I just went to the store and bought it.
    And who needs a potato to make breakfast? Eggs, yes. Potato? God, now I want some eggs.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. A Saturday (Evening) Post!!! Evening for me cause sweet Tee told me you had posted and she didn’t want me to miss out again so I screamed over here tonight! Thanks, Tee!!

    Okay, here’s the thing I am obsessed with with this post. When you mentioned President Ned waving from the back of a convertible, oh my good lawdy, all I could picture was President Ned waving from the back of a train!!!! Right? Right? All the cool presidents waved from the back of trains! It’d be like a whistle stop train tour. Which now reminds me of Whistle Stop Cafe and now I want fried green tomatoes. Hold the barbecue main dish.

    Reminds me a bit of dragging my kid to a bridge overpass grass slope by Interstate 80 a couple decades ago when Bill and Hill passed through on their bus tour.

    I miss the whistle stop train tours. I was born in the wrong era. I’d give my left nut, if I had one, to have seen FDR on a whistle stop tour. I’d give my right nut too, if I had one, to have seen Eleanor as well.

    You’re so pretty, Joob!

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Here’s a trick that will blow Ned’s mind: You can microwave sweet potatoes with nary a hint that it was not baked in the oven. I can’t stand microwaved “baked” potatoes, but sweet potatoes do be delicious.


  7. A Saturday post! If only I’d known, I’d’ve come home sooner from the Food Truck and Craft Beer Tasting Event I just sanctimoniously attended. Like I, with my delicate stomach and only port-a-potties in sight, would ever eat anything off something called a “Food Truck.” PUH-LEASE. And also, craft beer? Pffft. The other attendees? The extended cast of Family Guy in the flesh. To quote June, *I* was the Jacqueline Kennedy / Grace Kelly in this scenario. And I was overdressed.

    Liked by 1 person

  8. So funny! I would ask… why – about Ned, but I know the answer…I think most of us have been there, done that! You deserve better missy!


  9. That first picture of Edsel has to be one of the cutest ever. It makes me want to squeeze his cheeks and kiss him on his head. I once painted an entire bedroom in that eggplant color — it was an old house so it worked well. Great choice!

    Liked by 1 person

  10. I’m totally on Megan’s List.
    You want to shag professors, but not the college boys? That shows you that even though your favorite meal is Pop Tarts and Chef Boyardee, you are looking for age-appropriate men.


  11. I can not do late anymore. I am in bed by 9:30. No way I am eating dinner then, I would be sick. And forget about starting a movie at 11pm, hell no. I am old… well my spirit animal is old cause I am even younger than you in actual years.


  12. “…he’s going to the glue factory.” I’m DOA! And Edsel’s peeing schedule. When he’s on a walk he has to check all his e-mails and marks the spot.

    A potato! Oh my goodness. I would have already killed Ned dead having to wait to eat, I don’t do well when I get really hungry. In fact, I get very ill, not sick ill, but mean ill.

    I’m on my way to the sofa, as we speak, I’ve had a 5 year old all week and overnight guest last night. I’m exhausted, plus, we are having our blinds refinished and it is like daytime in our bedroom with just sheets over the windows. I need it to be DARK to sleep. I’ve decided I’m putting black, heavy-duty trash can liners over the windows tonight, because of the full strawberry moon.

    Liked by 1 person

  13. Have you guys ever noticed that at the end of my posts, now, it guides you to older posts?

    I just read one, from 2013 or something, and in it I said my body feels tighter than Camilla Parker Bowles’s lips whenever Goodbye England’s Rose is played. Oh my God I love myself so hard.

    Liked by 1 person

  14. “And be sure, someone, to warn me about ammonia like I’m 7 years old. I KNOW.”

    Thank you for this. You have so many readers I want to scream at when they state the obvious.

    Thanks for the Saturday post. It’s like we’re a special group…those of us with smart phones, and free time on saturday.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I hate to say this, but until Tee told me this in the comments last week, I didn’t know about bleach and ammonia. Or if I ever knew it, I’ve forgotten it.

      Liked by 1 person

  15. June, your last comment made me bellow with laughter! GREAT Saturday post. Boy, I would kill Ned over eating. I can not wait that long. Michael used to be all kinds of late and I ate tons of snacks and was no longer hungry for dinner either. He gets home much earlier 95 percent of the time now. I am so much happier with that.


  16. A Saturday post! What a lovely start to the day. Enjoy your weekend, June.


  17. sooo…you slithered back into your clothes this morning. Winky face
    Don’t slap me with the liver, i would not have slept in my clothes either.


    1. I had on jeans and a long-sleeve gauzy shirt. They would not have been what you call comfy. But I wasn’t naked. I had pajamas still left there, fortunately. Ned tells me I look like I’m in one of Hilary Clinton’s pantsuits in those pajamas, and here, Ned. Here is my dick. Go fuck yourself with it.

      Liked by 1 person

  18. Thanks for the Saturday post. The bleach incident sounds nasty. I hope you’re feeling better today.


    1. He’s always so astounded when something takes me a reasonable amount of time. “You’ve already been to the store?!”


      1. He can’t be this bad with time management at work. Can he? On the one hand, Ned seems like he lives in the moment and never plans ahead but on the other, it’s like he overthinks things which prevents him from making any kind of decision. Does he suffer from “But First Syndrome?”


  19. A Saturday post ! What fun. Get some proper rest today in your own comfy bed with your passel of critters.


  20. I’ve known Ned for five and a half years now. I can NAME the times he ate fast food. I can think of three times, all because I insisted because we were in a hurry. And, like, order Chinese or a pizza? Oh, HELL, no. He has a long threshold for hunger. Do you remember when we were first dating and he said, “Hey, why don’t I make breakfast!” and I was so excited, and he literally said, “I have to go to the store to get a potato.” We ate nearly three hours later. I AM NOT KIDDING.


    1. Do they have uber eats down there? You order from a restaurant and then some nice stranger delivers it to your door.


      1. I was in a McDonalds the other day and they had an Uber Delivers sign there. Who in their right mind would pay an Uber driver to pick up McDonalds for them?


  21. Poor Eds. Maybe that’s one of the reasons he’s been down in the dumps lately. Feel better soon, itchy boy.
    Whyyy can’t Ned pick up take out, like normal people.
    Now I’m imagining him sitting in his car, working his way through eleventy billion take out menus.
    Or a five mile long lineup at the drive thru.
    Lovely Saturday morning post, June.

    Liked by 1 person

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