Dooce just came back after a hiatus that was longer than mine, if you’ll forgive the phallic innuendo. She announced that she is sober, which, good for her. I am sorry to tell you I have nothing exciting or major like that to update you on. Cause I drink like once a year and get a migraine. So, no comeback with a WOW. (Check it out! Bo Whoa Bo Ricks!) Just back with more all-June’s-regular-crap all the crappy time.
It’s my uplifting attitude that brings you back year after year.
For the last five or six weeks, who knows how long that was; it’s a blur and this sentence is finely constructed and I cannot get enough of myself.
Anyway, since May 1, I had newborn teensy bottle-needing kittens
and you’ve no idea how time-consuming and bottle-consuming teensy newborn bottle-feeding kittens are. Plus also I have my trainer in the morning. Plus too too, work is King Kamehameha busy, so in sum you were my lowest priority and I am sorry. I had no time to talk to you, and had to go on a break, like Ross and Rachel. Now I will not even have tens of readers. I’ll have fives of readers.
But on Saturday, on this, our past weekend, I returned the kittens to their rightful owner, which is actually partially true. A friend of mine, a former coworker, is adopting the B&W one, and note that I am so pressed for time that I can’t possibly spell out black or white. Makes no difference if it’s black or white. Doodoodoododo, hee-heee (grabs parts).
Anyway, I returned the B&W and the B to the shelter, but they are not yet two pounds, which (a) is absurd, as they are 8 weeks old. But (2), my friend the adopter is now fostering them, in sort of a rent-to-own situation. She will foster them till they’re two pounds, then return them to be neutered, or spayed. What do you do with boy cats? Oh, hoooo care.
The point is, they are no longer with me. And I returned home and cleaned the kitten room and enjoyed the silence.
Actually, that’s not true, Ellen. Name that classic moment in TV. For as soon as I was done at the shelter, I had to screech over to my friend Wedding Alex’s, as she was having a birthday party for a one-year-old. I mean, not just some random one-year-old. Her child. She had a birthday party for her child, who you may have guessed by now because nothing gets past you, is one.
Here’s the issue. I have gained 400 pounds since we have been shut in, here, and nothing I had fit. “What about your dress?” I thought, combing my closet hoping there was a secret Mama Cass section I’d forgotten I’d put in.
I got a dress from Stitch Fix last year, and I kept it and then canceled Stitch Fix because what did I need clothes for? I spent most of summer 2020 in my Frida Kahlo robe. Looking more like Diego Rivera by the minute, with that whole sitting in the house eating thing I did.
By some miracle, the dress fit, and if the dress fit, you must a quit looking for something else to wear cause did I mention nothing fits? So I threw it on and headed out the door, kitten carrier in hand. When I got home that night, I perused my Ring doorbell alerts and saw this.
THE GIANT PRICE TAG WAS HANGING DOWN MY BACK. I went to the party like that. I recall one moment there, when I was concerned with the food table, as I am Diego Rivera, that Wedding Alex said, “Your tag is showing.” But I assumed she meant that little tag on the back that says, “Made in China” or whatever. OH MY GOD.
So that was my relaxing Saturday. Sun’s out, tag’s out.
So if that weren’t enough to make your weekend the best it can be, if hanging my price tag high weren’t enough, I also got a message, which of course always makes me go,
Any time I get a message, I am bugged. I do not like to be interrupted.
It was the friend of a friend, messaging me to say she needed to find at least a temporary home for a kitten and could I help.
Could I help.
So thank God I cleaned out the kitten room, because one day later, it’s full again. This is Clementine. She is 4 months old and everyone here hates her. Edsel fears her, Milhous (MILhous, of all people) hissed at her. She’s cloistered here till she gets shots anyway, but I let them look from a distance. Clementine got bottle brush tail and hissed at everyone. I have always heard dilute torties are bitchy.
But with me she is a dream. She makes a lot of eye contact and is very purry and cuddly. I can’t help it she doesn’t like anyone here. I can’t help it her dilute tortie comes out. Anyway, does anyone need a kitten?
I gotta go. I had all sorts of trouble today with this post, with typing it before work, then losing the whole thing cause Mercury is retrograde, and then finding it and publishing it on my lunch “hour,” like I ever take an hour. I rarely even really take a lunch. Why did a pandemic make it so we can’t turn work off?
I just looked over at Clementine and she began purring from across the room. This is a seriously nice kitten.
All right, I gotta go. It’s called working, sweaty.