[BEFORE I BEGIN: YOU DO NOT HAVE TO ENTER AN EMAIL ADDRESS TO LEAVE A COMMENT.]
I’ve heard the months for nearly perfect weather here are May and October. I have found that to be true. May is to North Carolina what July is to Michigan–the days are warm and breezy and lovely most of the time. A few are hot, but not many. Sort of like a dating site.
I’ve had the windows open a lot as a result. So hot men will climb in. No.
Last night I slept with four windows open, which several neighbors have told me this neighborhood is “safe enough” to do, and which therefore always makes me nervous.
The point is I woke up with icicles hanging off the bed.
There is a scene in one of my Laura Ingalls Wilder books where Laura is sleeping on the top floor of the house, an uninsulated house because 1888, and she wakes to Pa sweeping the snow off her blankets. Couldn’t anyone call Child Protective Services, which I’ve now mentioned two days in a row?
Anyway, this chilly morning I snuggled with Edsel, who for as much as he adores me, HATES snuggling. He always sits there, appalled, till I’m done. At night and in the morning he greets me by pressing his head into me, hard, and I can hug his dog neck for a bit, but any spooning and so on is a no. Cool stoic Tallulah would totally let me nap on her hip if I wanted to.
We got up, because Dark Victory was in here mewing once he heard us stir.
My regular morning thing is to go to the living room and open the 47 blinds (there are three windows and a door with a window in there. It’s like I live at the palace or something) while I say hey to my Google machine, as when I do, it tells me the time, the current temperature and the expected high and low, and then it always says, “Your commute to work is six minutes if you take [insert street] by car.”
Except this one time, it said it’d take FIVE minutes and I was all, WHERE ARE ALL THE PEOPLE DID THE WORLD END. Now my whole goal is to get it to say that again.
My point is, it’s 45 degrees out this morning. I had every window in the palace open to a 45-degree evening. Pleasant.
Meanwhile, the kitten who never sits still remains less than two pounds. Oh my god. I can gain two pounds after one Pop Tart and he’s all, “Tryeeng to keep it under 2. Want to fit in kitten prom dress 4 lyfe.”
Not that I really mind him staying here. He’s a big hit with the blonds here. He’s a big two non-thumbs down with the grays. But they tolerate him. They let him run by without incident at this point. There’s no outraged hissed/angry post on Catfacebook.
Other than that, things are copasetic. I’ve been looking at my dating apps more often than I had been, not because I hold out hope of meeting anyone on them, but rather that they’re so absurd. My favorite thing this morning, other than the man who’s bemoaning women searching for “the prince in shiny armor,” was the guy who talked about how depth was important, and the thing he values, along with large eyes and a small nose on a woman who keeps herself slim.
I should make a book of these, except can’t everyone just sue my size-large pants off for stealing their brilliant profiles?
I did see one good one. It was all, “My life is pretty good,” and then a list of what was good about it, followed by, “So now I’m gonna ruin all that and start dating again.”
That’s exactly how I feel.
I have to go to work, as it is beckoning. I think I might actually just have a night tonight where I get to come home and do nothing. Oh, how rich that is. How lovely. Tomorrow I am introducing the copy editor who sits behind me to The Other Copy Editor, fmr., at TOCE,F’s bed and breakfast. I think they’ll like each other as they are both low key. I figure all low key people like each other. But what do I know? I’m high key.
Okay, goodbye. Oh, and while I’m up now that you’ve told me some good places to get cushions for my outdoor chairs, what are some other cute things I can do back there? I want to string Tibetan prayer flags out there because Lu was part Tibetan spaniel. But what else?