Oddly, I remember what I was doing a year ago today. I mean, as someone who writes what’s going on in her life every day–now without weekends!–I guess it’s not that shocking. But believe it or not, I don’t look at my blog every day and read what I wrote in past years. I also don’t check to see how many comments I got. I read those as emails.
Nevertheless, I remember that last January 31, I went to the allergy doctor, because my throat always feels like it’s closed up. He put all those–
–what the hell? This just caught my attention out the corner of my eye. Why? What’s fun about jumping up there? You just have to hunch over like Quasimodo. Quasi-meow-do. You’re welcome. That sort of hilarity is why you come here.
As I was saying. The allergist put all those needles in my back, to see what I’m allergic to, if anything. The little chippie in the scrubs said, “Do you want your phone while you lie here with needles in your back and we wait for you to die of allergies?”
I mean, really. If someone can die from kissing someone who had eaten peanut butter earlier, why can’t you die from getting poked with something you might be really allergic to? But no. They leave you in there full of allergens, and go about their business.
“No,” I smugged. “I can be alone with my thoughts.” Ya goddamn millennial. In your fuchsia scrubs.
So she left, probably to go look at her phone, and then I found myself unable to be alone with my thoughts. What if I went into anaphylactic shock because they’ve injected me with pine nuts or whatever? What if nothing ever happens to me, and I die one of those New York deaths where no one knows till the smell drifts into the hallway?
That was from When Harry Met Sally.
I guess what I’m saying to you is, it was one year ago today that we found out I have dust mite allergies. And do you know what I haven’t been doing? Is taking my Allegra.
But what I HAVE been doing is taking stupid Prilosec every morning when I get up. The doctor told me to. I mean, he also told me to take Allegra, but let’s leave that alone now, you nagging bitch.
So, I take it, then I have to wait half an hour before–
What the hell? Why can’t he ever just sit still? And he thinks he wants out, but it’s cold as shit, and the other day he was out and it was cold, and when I opened the back door to call him, he immediately leaped through the hole in the screen door to get in, without waiting for me to take that lengthy stretch that it takes to, oh, open a screen door.
He hates cold. And yet he wants out in it.
He’s an adventure cat.
Anyway. So, I have GERD, along with my dust mite allergy, and really, the part where I go on with life is inspirational. The doctor wants me to take two Prilosec in the morning, then wait half an hour to drink coffee, and has he MET me?
It’s the most difficult half hour of my day, that wait for coffee. More difficult than any half hour of Tracy Anderson I may do.
But now a half hour has passed since I took my goddamn medication, and now I can have my coffee. Hang on. …Oh, sweet elixir that gives me migraines and GERD.
I bought this mug when I saw my Aunt Mary at Thanksgiving. It was in a little shop we popped into. News flash: If you’re with my Aunt Mary, you are going to pop into little shops.
Anyway, Owosso is a town in Michigan. When I was a kid, my father went to both Hawaii and the town of Owosso for work. So I used to tell everyone that when I got big, I was going to move to either Hawaii or Owosso. They both sounded so exotic. I had no idea why all the adults were so hog wild over this announcement.
I wonder what my four-year-old self would’ve thought about “Greensboro.”
I think I’ve lived here the longest, out of anyplace since I left Michigan. When I’m 54, I will have lived away from Michigan for as long as I ever lived there. (That’s in a year and a half.)
I lived in Seattle for four years and two months, to the day.
I lived in Los Angeles for 10 years and six months, to the day.
I’ve lived in North Carolina for–oh my god! It’ll be 10 years and six months on February 5.
Also, I am weird about knowing dates. It’s irked people my whole life. I met someone in college, with whom I slept, who was also weird about dates the way I was. Turns out, our compatibility started and ended there.
He was, well, he was Marvin’s roommate, okay? I didn’t know I was gonna marry Marvin. Geez. Anyway, once, they were lying around their room, Marvin and his roommate With Whom I Slept, and Marvin said, “I wonder if eventually we will sleep with the same girl” and also he said, “I wonder what day we lined our drawers.”
I mean. That sums Marvin up right there.
They’d lined their drawers with the school newspaper, for which I wrote, by the way, so this whole story is a circle of life. Boom. But anyway, Marvin’s roommate said, “September 29th.”
“How the fuck would you know that?” asked Marvin.
What I wonder is why the fuck two boys in their late teens weren’t out doing heroin and banging women. I guess because I hadn’t shown up yet. With m’horse. But I mean, really. Is this the saddest college conversation you’ve ever sat in on?
That same roommate of Marvin’s (WWIS) and Marvin were home for the weekend once, and they couldn’t find anything going on or anything to do. There they were, on a Saturday night, and Marvin’s grandparents drove up.
“We were looking for your parents. Aren’t they here?”
No. They weren’t. For it was Saturday night.
“We’re on our way out, too,” said Marvin’s 90-year-old grandparents, who literally squealed the tires on their way to their fun night.
And there stood Marvin and his friend (WWIS), still having zero to do on a Saturday. In Detroit. When they had their youth and their health, and more than likely a communicable disease from me.
What was I talking about? Have I become one of those old ladies who you wish would just go down for her nap already?
Oh, I know. The fact that they’d lined their drawers with newspaper meant Marvin’s roommate (WWIS) could open a drawer and prove he was right about the date.
Also, boys. Good lord. Lining their drawer with newspaper. I remember my roommate and I heading to Pier One to decorate our room, where we purchased among other things a large pink parasol to hang from one corner. Our drawer liner had lavender flowers. It may have even smelled nice. We may have been Spartans, but our room was not spartan.
My college roommate slept with everyone else. I took care of Marvin’s dorm room; she took care of all the other rooms. Together, we made a great team.
I gotta go. I realize this was an important and hard-hitting post, one you’ll remember for the rest of time, but it has to end sometime.
Before I leave you, obligatory kitten shots. Also, we’re getting to enjoy shots of The Many Pants of June, which is always a plus.
My fur pants and I took the mom cat to the shelter yesterday, for her booster shot, and they said she is done producing milk. This does not stop this group of beasts from constantly suckling on what now must surely be her poor worn-out boobs for about 80 hours a day. So the shelter said they can stay here till they stop doing that.
DON’T STOP DOING THAT, LITTLE KITTENSES!!!!