I’m back! You’ve no idea how delightful it is to plug my phone into the computer and sit down with my coffee, dog’s snout on my lap.
…Turns out, his snout was on my lap because he wanted to go outside. That dog doesn’t love me one bit. He and Milhous seem to have an ecosystem going: Mil kills something then Edsel rubs in it.
Anyway, hi, which I just accidentally wrote as anyway, ho, and that is my new greeting of all dignitaries and blog readers.
I’ve no idea where I left off, but let’s just say I’ve had 4948394024 doctor visits, in which I finally asked the staff with whom I’ve become intimate (not literally. This is not YouPorn) if I could have complimentary scrubs after my 40th visit. They said they’d name one of the rooms after me instead. If you go to my doctor, you’ll know because they’ll guide you to the rooms, one of them named the June Gardens Concussion Suite.
Also, wouldn’t it be great to wear scrubs every day to work? I mean, sure, you have to chance getting upchucked on, but that’s a small price to pay for an elastic waistband.
So other than being on the mend, although not still 100% and COULD CONCUSSIONS TAKE LONGER?, Ima scroll through my photos to see if anything else is new, although I can tell you the answer is nyet, June. Is “nyet” no? Or is it short for “not yet” in Russian? Is nyet even Russian?
This has been a weird month. At first, when I was napping 4x a day, I was having the most vivid dreams. It was kind of great. I had one dream where I was totally making out with this guy I know, a person I like quite a bit but not that way, because he is married. I can’t help what I dream, dawgs.
Anyway, in the dream, we were having a great time when the guy who sits next to me at work, Fewks, came up OUT OF NOWHERE and said in this disapproving tone, “June. I really don’t think Ferdinand’s wife would appreciate this.”
WHY THE FUN POLICE, FEWKS? God.
Naturally, during the six minutes a day they allowed me to work, I told Fewks about this dream and his response?
“Well, his wife really would be mad,” he cockblocked.
So really that’s been the highlight of my four weeks. Mostly it’s been me not looking at screens and not watching TV and not reading.
I still don’t have my car, but I’m enjoying my rental Mustang. Did I show you this? (Everything is kind of a fog. I can’t remember.)
At night, when I click the thing® (official name) to unlock my car, THE MUSTANG LOGO LIGHTS UP THE SIDEWALK FOR NO REASON OTHER THAN IT’S COOL.
Last Friday I finally went to dinner with my neighbors again and of course I dragged them all out to look at this phenomenon.
“Ooooo,” they all said.
“We’re gonna wait here till you drive away to see if it stays lit up,” one of the men said. But when I put it in reverse, everyone said, “Ohhhhh.” And either they were extra disappointed that I was leaving or the light went out. Maybe when I leave a gathering the light goes out for everyone anyway.
Also, I am kitten-sitting for Snowflake, now Sidney, because Ned had a boy weekend with boys in which they did boy things like fish. “If I adopt her, I’ll have to leave that first weekend for my trip,” he worried. All Ned does is worry.
“I’LL BABYSIT HER!” I screeched. His uncle comes to take care of his cat du jour (like he didn’t have NedKitty for 18 years) but he didn’t want Sidflake to be alone at this young of an age.
So she was here Friday through Sunday and then on Sunday I got sad Wonderful World of Disney feeling about her going.
“I have to leave this week for a business trip overnight,” Ned worried.
“I’LL KEEP HER TILL THEN, THEN!!!” I screeched, and now she’s here most of the week! I love her so bad, I do.
I’ve been feeding her the depressing healthy Science Pellets or whatever it is that Ned got for her. At MY house, and I’m like my gramma, she always got Fancy Feast Kitten food, junky and delicious. Then Ned adopted her and all healthy hell broke loose. Ned even has a depressing measuring spoon to meter out the exact amount every 12 hours exactly.
Ned has an engineering degree.
Iris gets this tuna and pumpkin food now, for her irritable attitude disorder or whatever it is, and SnowSid seems so interested in it, so today I couldn’t stand it and I let her have some.
Note that Milhous is relegated to the adult dry boring kibble, as SnowNey was GROWLING while she ate, so delighted was she. It’s less cute when I do this at Boston Market.
By the time Ned gets back, he’ll get out that sad measuring spoon of kibble and she’ll spit on it.
I’ve TOLD Ned he can have his choice of any of my other cats. I think that’s a fair deal. He can take two! Hell, he can take Edsel! People pass up great deals that are right under their noses.
Anyway, that’s the guff. Do you know what I miss about TypePad? Almost nothing. But it DID tell me how many words I’d written and I always tried to stop at 600 and usually failed, but I always always tried to stop at 1,000. I have NO IDEA how many words I’ve typed today but it feels like nintey-forty-two.
So I’ll go, and I’ll be back tomorrow like a normal person, because we’re trying a regular schedule to see how I do. If I do poorly, I’ll have to return to the June Gardens Concussion Suite for further confabbing so let’s hope that doesn’t happen.