I have to have Iris at the vet in 25 minutes, meaning I have to leave in 15, so what I might do is write here till I have to go, then come back and finish after. This is barring any work that comes in, but I know how work goes, and it’s unlikely any copy editing will be here this early. Copy editing is at the end of the line. Down the road a piece. At the end of our rainbow. There’s something I must say out loud.
Three times a lady.
Who danced with a boy to that song at a school dance? Anyone? All of us? My first slow dance with a boy was to Stairway to Heaven, which as you’ll recall was a very long song, and the whole time I kept thinking, Man, his belt buckle is huge.
I was naaaaaave.
I had a Facebook discussion with someone from high school with whom I never slow danced who insists the 10 Commandments can be found, as she put it, “13 times” in the Capitol. This is profoundly untrue, and the fact that we just…repeat things and don’t make sure they’re true disturbs me. So, when I said, “That just isn’t true” and her comeback was, “Yes, it is,” I gave up. She clearly wasn’t interested in being anything but “right,” which she was not, so where can you go from there?
Other than that it’s been a painful weekend. Saturday was OK. It was pretty out, and Ned came to get me and we took a long drive out to the country in his Mustang that he is obsessed with. “There can be only one discussion of your Mustang, or anyone else’s Mustang that we see on the road,” I said, and my commandment—see what I did, there?—was not heeded.
At one point we crossed through a small town, and what would a small town be if it didn’t have a McDonald’s.
“Would you like to get a hot fudge sundae at McDonald’s?” I asked Ned cheerfully. When we met, Ned literally didn’t know how to go through a fast food drive-thru. It was the most annoying thing you’ve ever witnessed. It was like he’d just moved here from Zanzibar.
“Should we split one?” asked Ned, as we waited in line.
This is a famous line of Ned’s. Any time we’re about to get anything delicious, he suggests we split it, and back when we liked each other, I would be shamed into saying OK, but now I just give him The Look and he knows the answer.
I weigh 15 pounds more than when I dated Ned.
I’d better go get Irises to the vet. I’ll be back, and I’ll retitle this Parts 1 and 2, so you know my pith has gone on.
…I’m back but I DO have work, which is why you should never assume you know things. So I must go, but suffice it to say I had a migraine the rest of the weekend, so there was nothing more to tell you except there was agony, and much lying about.
Today marks 9 years since my first date with Ned, and when we broke up we said we’d still meet every year at the place of our first date, so tonight we are meeting in the PARKING LOT of the place of our first date, and having a sparkling drink in the car, although I hope not in the Mustang, as I will have to then hear about the Mustang, and then about other Mustangs, and possibly even about the chase scene from Bullitt, which is not what I signed on for 9 years ago.
Talk to you tomorrow. Oh, and Iris’s thyroid is still OK. We are also checking her kidney function and I don’t know about that yet. She just seems off to me and I can’t figure out what it is. She seems hunchy and she doesn’t hang around the rest of us as much. Maybe we’re just one cat over the line, sweet Jesus.
Anyway, talk to you tomorrow.