Do I even want to know why the cat bed has been murdered and dragged to the den while Edsel and I were sleeping? The pad for said bed is over by the back door. The cats went on some kind of bender last night.
Anyway, hello. I didn’t write you yesterday because I slept badly–LILY–and didn’t drag self out of bed till absolutely necessary and then stood sleepily in shower and drove robotically to work. Don’t you hate days like that? When you’re so tired and you have to go to work like an adult anyway?
I remember my grandmother being in charge of me once and I had a bad cold and was on my way to a stellar ear infection that I still recall. She MADE me go to school anyway. I kept trying to tell her how bad I really felt, not to mention how contagious I probably was, but she wasn’t hearing it.
Eventually, I had to get a prescription for the bad purple syrup AND the horrible pink syrup. But that day I just had to go to school.
That’s what I did to myself yesterday after no sleep. I Grammy’d myself to work.
She kept head-butting me all night. Lily did, I mean. Not my grandmother when I was 16. I might have called social services over that. That damn Lily needs. That’s it. She just NEEDS. I’d fall back to sleep and BUTT on my hand or my face or my soul.
Finally, at some point, I threw her out, after removing all 16 of her claws from the bed as she clung on desperately. “no! lillee need to but!” But when I did that, MILHOUS sneaked in without me seeing, and just as I fell asleep he ZOOMED across my body and that is when I got up, drove everyone out to the country, and left them there.
Then they all found their way home like a Disney movie and I opened my front door to their shiny faces on the stoop and I beat them all with shovels the end.
Last night, when Lily had the nerve to try to catch up on her rest, I kept nudging her and poking at her. She purred. Goddammit.
Anyway. So I worked a full day, had to go to the post office at noon which is always relaxing, and then after work I had the trainer. “Were you sore last time?” she asked me, and I assured her I wasn’t.
See. That was a mistake.
After an hour of balancing on a ball like a seal and lunging like I was proposing to 78 different people, the hour was finally over and I was able to give my full attention to Otis, which is why I’m going there twice a week, really.
I don’t know why all my photos today are me clear as a bell and the animals are fuzzy, but that is our party theme and we’re sticking to it. Drink your punch.
“You haven’t met Rosie yet,” said my trainer, who then called out, wait for it, “Rosie!”
I expected a robot maid, but in fact a much smaller, much livelier dog emerged. She was black and white and she was a muffin.
I like dogs.
Remember back when all the hilarity on this blog was my lack of photo skills? It’s like we’re having retro day or something. My tree in the back is flush with pears that aren’t ready yet, and it’s like when something smells really good in the oven and your mom is all, “It’s not ready yet. Go back and watch Mr. Rogers.” I’m over here watching Mr. Rogers but feeling up pears in my mind. How do you know when they’re ready to pick?
“I’ve got a pear to pick with you.” Bah.
Perhaps I’m not quite caught up on m’sleep.
Oh! And while I have you all here, suffering through my pear jokes, do you know what I did? I deleted all three of my dating apps. First of all, men annoy me. To wit: I chatted with one guy for a few days. Each day he told me about some live music event he’d gone to, and I knew I was going to hate him once we became a couple and he wanted to go to live music every day. He’d show up on my stoop and I’d beat him with a shovel.
Dear men: Just feel actual emotions and you don’t have to be so obsessed with music.
So that was annoying, but then this weekend he said, “What’d you do today?” and I wrote, “I bought a new car” and he
WROTE ABOUT THE LIVE MUSIC HE HAD SEEN THE NIGHT BEFORE.
So I responded to what he said, like a person who knows how to conduct a conversation, and finished with, “I like how ‘bought a car’ didn’t warrant a response at all.” He was all, “Oh my god, you’re right, I’ve made it all about me, hah. *spontaneously* So tell me about your car!”
See? That was funny. So I kept writing that day.
Then the next day he wrote again and I answered for a few rounds, then said, “Well, I just walked in the door and need to feed the dog and make something to eat.”
This was true. I’d had to return something at a store (a new button for m’phone. It absolutely would not stick to said phone), and then afterward I’m afraid I drove all through the rich neighborhood with my top down. On my car. I didn’t drive around topless through the rich neighborhood, although this is not, you know beyond me or anything. So it was after 7 and I’d yet to do my evening things and here was this person on my phone. Head-butting me with texts.
“Boooooo,” he wrote. “Fuck that.” And then proceeded to write six more texts. Boom boom boom, right in a row. Mostly about the live music he was going to see that night.
And right then I knew. This was annoying. I text endlessly with these men and then we go out and they don’t like me or I don’t like them and it was a waste of everyone’s time and then I get back on and meet a different man and the same thing happens again. Meanwhile, I gotta talk to people when I don’t want to; I just want to live my life. I’m sick of auditioning for these stupid men who write things like, “Looking for someone with a nice smile and a proportionate BMI.”
So I deleted everything. And while I was writing you this just now, an actual text came through from some yahoo I gave my real number to. It flashed across my screen while I was tryina think. “GOOD MORNING, JUNE. [Insert banter here.]”
I’m not saying I never want romance ever again. But if I do, I’d rather meet someone the old-fashioned way, like drunk at a bar or by stealing someone’s husband.
I’d better get to work and copy edit things. Maybe snap a photo of an animal. That sort of thing.