I forgot to tell you that last week, the woman who owns my house, fmr., texted. Her name is also “June” but she spells it differently. Let’s say she spells it Karin.
“There’s a package here for you,” she wrote. I’d given her my contact info just in case Steely Dan comes back, which I realize at this point is a long shot, but I can’t give up hope. I love all my pets, even Lily,
but sometimes I extra-special love some of them, and those are always the ones who drop dead or disappear.
“I’ll be by Wednesday,” I texted Karin, pronounced “joooon.”
So, Wednesday after work I drove the old way to my little house in the neighborhood where the neighbors have all their teeth and likely a whole dental plan and so forth.
The year I lived abroad I went back to my old house a couple times, and I felt strangely removed from it. I passed that off to being so ridiculously in love. But now that I went back to my house as a normal person in a house on my own, I still felt strangely removed.
When Karin (pronounced “joooon”) went to get the package, I stood on the porch looking out. It looked familiar, yes, but I didn’t feel like I was dying to be back there or anything. Sometimes I do have the regretsies about moving to a hood where CPS appears on the regular, but it’s mercifully quiet here and everyone’s been nice to me. Extra-special nice. One neighbor even gave me macaroni and cheese and little toys for my kittens.
Anyway, it was a book on vintage roses, the package at Karin’s, and which of you sent it? There wasn’t a card, but that was so nice of you! I’ve managed to kill the knockout rose on my fence line already, and they’re, like, practically weeds, they’re so easy to grow. I worry about my new chosen hobby.
Why is it so hard to grow flowers but so easy to grow weeds??
I also think I forgot to tell you that my Gumby chair got recovered, and here it is. I say so many things on the social media that I forget what I have and haven’t said here. Iris claimed it immediately and has pretty much lived there ever since. This is her dating profile.
But speaking of Iris, her fur is falling out in great clumps. Does anyone know what this means? Her fur that managed to stay on her so far feels thin and dry. Should I take her to the vet? Now that I’m writing this out loud, of course I should take her to the vet. She never really rallied from that dog attack, not all the way. I can tell, when my computer sleeps and I get a slide show of old photos, which photos that pop up of Iris are before the attack and after. She never had full Iris strength and poofiness afterward.
I was scrolling up to get a photo of Iris but instead I saw this and died a hundred deaths. Oh, messy Frida. Lily was delightful with the kittens. She licked them and cuddled with them and let them crawl on her like Gulliver’s Travels.
Iris hissed. Maybe her fur fell out in protest, but she didn’t seem that annoyed. She lived her normal life till she sensed one nearby, hissed, but never left where she was, which is more often than not staring at a wall.
I like how I go to the house I lived in for 11 years and feel nothing. I get kittens for three weeks and die of sad when they go.
I know that there was something else I forgot to tell you, and now that I’m sitting here before you I am a blank. I’m a blank canvas. Shootin’ blanks.
Since I’m sitting here blank, look. Here are my birthday cards. My ex-mother-in-law sent the one with kitten Milhous in a cape.
I accidentally took this this weekend and I like it.
Sigh. I guess I’m not gonna think of whatever it was I had to tell you, which gives me something to live for for tomorrow. So, meanwhile, here’s 24 seconds of Edsel having to play with a cat toy a few weeks back when we lost Blu. FR Fay sent him two new Blus so now we’re back in business, which is good. Because Edsel with that toy is a sad statement. That thing came with Milhous when I got him at the shelter and he seems to like it, Milhous does, so I’ve kept it. Me having to keep a giant iteration of an emoji is a special kind of insult, but I muddle through.
P.S. I REMEMBERED!!! Oh my god. The other day when I still had kittens, I was rounding them up to go in their kitten room so I could go to work. I couldn’t find one and it was driving me berserk.
Edsel was at his dish, eating, and there was Jackson, standing right under Edsel’s giant legs, trying to eat dog food. And Eds was just letting him. He coulda snapped that kitten’s head clean off, but instead he just ate like nothing was happening.