So far today, I’ve gotten up, gotten dressed, screamed to my trainer for 45 minutes, screamed home, cleaned up kitten poop from the damn floor, opened 47 windows (see above ref to kitten poop), mixed up kitten gruel, fed cats, fed dog, changed everyone’s water, and made coffee.
It’s 7:30. Who am I, the Army?
Anyway, how are you. That was a short weekend, right? Harrr. Who here is an asshole who took today off? I say that because I failed to do so so now all y’all are somehow assholes.
It’s sort of sticky in here with the windows open. Gee, June, it’s July in the South and you’re saying it’s warm? I’ll bet you didn’t think of taking the Friday after the 4th off, either, did you?
They should really make this a holiday too, don’t you think? Who’s going to be productive today? Who? Probably me, because I’ll be the only one there and I’ll have to, like, be an art director for the day because there won’t be any.
[Sips first coffee of day. It’s too strong because I poured it early. Gets ready to art direct all day. Step one: Find out what that actually is.]
Here’s what’s happening behind me. Note the big jug of vinegar, the cat food, and thou. I have to put the kitten food on the mantle so effing Milhous doesn’t eat it when he bursts in here.
Oh! And speaking of Milhous: One of my neighbors has a kitten named Sissy. Sissy is a calico. Several times now, the neighbor who owns Sissy has asked if Milhous can come out and play with Sissy.
I’ve had no idea what she means. “Does Milhous come over there?” I finally asked.
“Oh, yes,” she told me. “He jumps the fence and comes on in.”
Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away, and also I was enjoying my back yard. I saw Milhous leap over our fence, so I got up to look.
There he was, actually playing with Sissy. They were chasing each other all over yonder. It was so cute. He doesn’t seem to have that cat thing, where he abhors other cats. He’s an affable soul.
…I wanted to put a picture of him up right here, saying something like, “Yesss, milhowse do be” but I see the last 49 hundred photos have been of kittens. Here, in case you don’t follow me on the social media.
As per usual, Eds is enjoying our foster kittens. It’s what he does. It’s who he is.
I’m enjoying my fosters very much, despite the part where they are still putting their entire bodies in their food. Food is their hokey-pokey.
But none of this is why I gathered you here today. I gathered you here because yesterday all my troubles seemed so far away and Dear June, Fucking stop. Yesterday I got on the topic with some of you, on the social media where we were kibitzing, about things we WISHED we liked.
I wish I liked Fiestaware. It’s so almost me. It’s retro, it comes in fun colors, and yet I can’t make myself love it.
I wish I liked sushi. People are forever droning on about it, and it seems so erudite to go to a sushi bar, but to me it just takes like cold fish in a cigar.
Chanel No. 5. How I wish I could say my signature scent was Chanel No. 5. To me it smells like an old lady. Here, honey, you got something on your face. Let me lick a hanky and come at ye.
Florence + the Machine.
Kate Spade stationery.
Basically, it’s just stuff I ought to like, given my taste in things, that I don’t. And it’d be easier if I did.
What about you guys?
(“Dear June: Your blog. Love, The assholes.”)