It’s not even 7:30 yet and I’ve already packed a lotta living into this day. I woke up at 5:30 to go to trainer, and what I like to do when I’m getting dressed is talk to my Google Home. The night before, I lay out all my exercise-y clothes in the living room so I can get up, brush teeth, get clothes on and walk out the door.
Every morning, whether I’m going to the trainer or not, I say, “Good morning, Google.”
“Hi. June.” It always says it like two sentences. And it literally calls me June. Hi. Delusional.
“It is 69 degrees. Today it will be sunny, with a high of 93 and a low of 69.”
I’ve noticed that early in the morning is generally when you get your low temp of the day. It’s all downhill from there, in the South.
On weekdays, my Google Home tells me how long it would take to get to work, and if it’s really early it says five minutes instead of the usual six and I get a small thrill. I used to have sex.
Anyway, as I was pulling on my shoes, I asked Google Home, “What’re YOU gonna do today?”
“I plan to sit quietly till someone asks me a question,” it said.
Maybe I’ve been single too long, but that gave me the giggs. Oh, I giggled at that. Someone at Google headquarters thought of that one day, just to amuse me and my ilk.
I was still giggling over my Google Home, thinking of asking it to coffee one night, when I opened the door and there was Mil with The Enemy.
Milhous lives in two houses now. The people next door are home all day and they own Sissy, his personal girlfriend. My cat has more dates than I do. Anyway, often when I come home for lunch, I’ll see the people next door doting over Milhous, feeding him and petting him while he winds around their ankles or just sits in the shade of their yard. Usually when he sees me he leaves them and enthusiastically jumps their fence to come over to our yard, which is good. I still want him to like me better. Although, really, why should he?
Anyway, last night he didn’t come home at all. I was at the door “kitty kitty”ing a hundred times and nothing. My theory was he was sleeping over there–they keep the back and front doors open most of the day because they don’t have AC, which, ugh.
So when I left the house at 6 this morning, before it was really light, I didn’t expect to see not only my own cat but the big orange cat–the mean one everyone fights with–on my porch.
But there they were, just hanging out. Clearly Milhous has charmed everyone in the whole neighborhood now. Oh, and you shoulda SEEN Big Orange Cat huff off like he was still tough. Bitch, I just saw you sitting on my lacy patio furniture. You practically had your pinky out.
Then on the drive to the trainer, I saw two dogs loose on this sort of country road I take. Naturally, I did a U-turn, and I wonder now how many times in this life I’ve U-turned for some animal. There was a house a ways down with the kitchen lights on, and the dogs looked well-fed, so I decided they’d just been let out to roam the field, and I did not kidnap them.
They were not there on my way back.
But on the way back, I was listening to the ’70s station, and remember that song The Things We Do For Love?
Like walkin’ in the rain and the snow and there’s nowhere to go and you’re FEELIN’ LIKE A PART OF YOU IS DYIN’. Remember that song?
I do. I remember it was a big hit in 1977, which my radio informed me on its screen but also just because I remember being in 6th grade having a spelling bee, and we had the chairs lined up all around the perimeter of the room, and you moved up if you spelled well.
I don’t spell that well. Maybe you think I’d be a magnificent speller but I’m not.
Anyway, I was about third or fourth down the line, and I remember whisper singing that song with Darlese Bamberg.
How come any time you tell a story about anyone from school they have names like Darlese Bamberg? It’s never, This one girl, Joan Smith…
So I’m singing along to it this morning, legs shaking from the trainer, eyes peeled for the field dogs, and I’m all, “Too many nnn-nnn-nnn have fallen in the sea–riverrrrr. Too many nnn-nnn-nn have drifted in — out to the riv–seaaaa.”
And it dawned on me: I been singing along to that song since aught 77 (Dear June: That’s really not how aught works) and WHY DON’T I KNOW THE LYRICS YET? WHY????
I remember being in the car with my ex-best friend once and she was singing Magnet and Steel. “For you are a mountain and I am steellll.” I got SO MAD. HOW could you sing “mountain”? It doesn’t even make sense. Magnet and Steel. IT’S THE NAME OF THE SONG.
But there I was, Too many unh unh unh have fallen seaa–no riverrrr. Am I much better? Also, I’m sorry, but I’m gonna need everyone to run out and get their hair done like this guy and send me photos.
I have to go. Maybe the rest of the day will all be downhill from here, like the temperature.