I’m over here trying to think of good parts of this pandemic, because otherwise I’ll just walk around all bored and hangdog with a face like Huckleberry Hound, thinking about how long I’m stuck in this house. I wish they’d call me and ask if I would volunteer for a vaccine. I’d so do it. At least I could go somewhere!
Anyway, fast food. I’m not eating any fast food. There’s a plus. And I never get annoyed at other drivers anymore. I’m saving on gas, which, when your commute is six minutes isn’t that big a deal anyway.
I feel like, whenever I see a group of people on social media now, leaving a comment that goes something like, “Thanks. Glad you had that graduation party. That’s another month I’m stuck at home.”
Anyway, how are you? Me? I’ve been a bit of a homebody.
As I type you, I’m sitting once again in the kitten room, and right there is another plus for pandemic. I sit in this room as much as I can, which on workdays is 8 hours a day, so these little evil ferals get used to me.
Oh, she’s getting tamed.
She starts when I walk in, and runs to hide occasionally, but the hide is just for show. She runs, like, under the desk and then prances around when I say hi. Oh, she purrs and she simpers and she’s all but achieved, basically. The day she runs UP to me instead of away I’ll know I’ve won with her.
Well, that’s another story altogether. This photo here is like that one blurry one they have of Bigfoot. A rarity. He hides nearly all the time, still, but as I type this he’s right in the middle of the room, play-fighting with Hissy. So I have faith he’ll get there. I’ve now touched him twice: Day one, when I moved him from the carrier to the tent, and the other day, when I stretched one finger out tentatively and petted him while he ate. He purred right away, then ran to his new hiding spot, behind the hope chest.
Anyway I love them and I apologize to anyone who reads me and isn’t that crazy about cats cause that was just a lot.
My birthday is coming up, and I’m not, like, a member of the Red Hat Society or anything that will ensure a big parade of folks drives past my house or anything, which I assume most of you didn’t get on your pandemic bday. So, what sorts of things can I do for fun that won’t kill me? I’m nixing my plans of a kissing booth downtown.
I’d better go. It takes a lot longer to get everything done in the morning when you have four regularly scheduled pets and then two feral kittens to care for each day. Whenever I have ferals, I feel quite like Laura Ingalls, getting up and doing chores so early. I do wish I had a baby cow to lead to grass or something, because I need more to do.
But anyway, I’ve done all my caring-for-others chores already, but I haven’t washed my face or put on clothes or made my bed or any of that, and I like to get all that done before work starts. Work has been SO BUSY and I know I keep saying that but oh my god. It’s gotten to the point that I no longer panic about it, and now I’ve just jinxed myself and I’ll have panic day.
I thought about it, and my panic comes from disappointing someone. A project manager or an editor. But if I’m going as fast as I can, what else can I do? I don’t have to panic about someone not liking me if they don’t like me after doing my best.
See how philosophical I’ve become in isolation?
So I’ll go. Oh, but one more thing!
I dyed my roots. I know it’s hard to see in the light like this but I did. Actually, in the light here it doesn’t look all that … covered, the roots, I mean, but in most light it looks fine. I wanted to like the white but I didn’t. My body, my choice, man.
Okay, really going.