On Friday, I had too much work to do. Most of my day was spent hunched tensely in the open floor plan, thinking don’t talk to me don’t talk to me don’t talk to me.
As hard as I tried, I didn’t get everything done. When I finally left work, it showed I’d last checked my phone at 9:02 a.m. Fortunately, the work was technically due on Monday morning, so I could take it home over the weekend.
So that is why I was vulnerable—although who are we kidding. I’d have said yes no matter what. But I was vulnerable when the shelter called. “We know you want just one kitten at a time,” they said, as I grew more and more delighted. “And we have a four-week-old someone brought in yesterday who just needs to be fattened up. Can you take him?”
Can I take him. I had three different plans Friday and canceled them all. As soon as 5:00 struck I was in my car screaming down there. Did I mention it’s as far out of town as you can get, on the busiest street in the damn city? Allegedly they’re building another one, allegedly. With my luck it’ll be even further.
Anyway, I walked into the Calcutta that is the shelter, with the same two beleaguered overworked women behind the counter who are always there. I ended up in that endless line with another kitten foster who thought she was picking up Snowflake, too. “No, I’m picking up Snowflake,” I said, already possessive of her. For although the office claimed she was a boy, I have peeked into the window of her soul and also her rear, and she is in fact a girl.
Anyway, turns out the yahoo in line hadn’t actually returned the call to the shelter, so she had to get the kitten who needed meds (named Daryl. Both the counter girl and the foster girl said, “Who names a girl Daryl?” and I was all, “Daryl Hannah” and they were both, “?”).
(“Splash?” I said.
“?” they said.
Actually, that other foster woman was hilarious and I liked her; she can’t help it she’s 12.)
Anyway, here’s Snowflake when I got her. Would it have killed them to give me a towel? Because in fact she DID poop on the drive home.
Now that I’m a pro at this, it took me five minutes to set her up–in the bathroom. I won’t have me another ruined floor. I fed her and petted her and got her warming disk to put her on, and in the morning she’d used her litter box just nicely like a good girl, and I gave her a bath and as the day wore on I graduated her to the den.
I let Eds look at her, but didn’t introduce them till Sunday, even though he was beside himself knowing she was in there. It’s like if you knew you had a German chocolate cake in the other room.
I’ve had several kittens, including Steely Dan, be appalled at Edsel at first, but not this one. She was all up in Eds.
Before you have 49 fits, we were out on the patio only and I was never more than a foot from her and it was for 5 minutes so calm down. But she wanted to follow him out there.
Anyway, it was the ideal weekend to have a new kitten because I was in here for like nine hours at a time doing my work. Oh! And another thing …
When she climbed into Edsel’s bed, as all kittens are wont to do, she thought it was so soft that she made biscuits on it for like half an hour. So I went to Target to get her a stuffed animal in that same soft material.
Do you know what I’ve never done before? Is shop for toys at Target. Or if I have it’s been years.
I got her a purple bunny that she seems 100% indifferent to. So.
Anyway, the good news is I have a kitten, who has gained a little weight already and who certainly has fewer fleas as of now, ugh. The other good news is I got a lot of work done, although I still have a ton more and will have don’t-talk-to-me posture all day. We have twin day today at work, but I had to text my twin to say I couldn’t get all the accoutrements so I won’t be a twin with a bearded Viking.
I also got zero cleaning done and no laundry completed, and I still have to call the stupid stupid stupid gas company, whom I hate, because they won’t send me a paper bill and I can’t get into their site. “Paternal grandmother’s name,” it says, so I put in my grandmother’s name.
“Nope, that’s not it,” they say.
YES, IT IS.
They won’t send me a paper bill, and the only way to fix my password is to sign in with my account number, which I DON’T HAVE BECAUSE THEY WON’T SEND ME A PAPER BILL. Oh my god my hatred of them is white hot.
So what I’m saying is a lot didn’t get done.