I have to hurry, which I know makes Faithful Reader Paula nervous, and she is going to start reading quickly now, as though I might have to hurry off any second now with my post under my arm.
The REASON I have to hurry is I have an eye appointment, because like my cat I am blind-ish. And I won't be able to post after because my pupils will be dilated like I'm Dondi and I can't see a dang thing for hours.
In LA, they had drops to get your eyes back to normal, but for some reason my doctor here refuses to have such a thing. Maybe she's one of those people who thinks LA is all full of fruits and nuts. I love that. Maybe she calls it "Hollyweird." I similarly love that.
Also, I have been sick, and poor Ned has had to bring me Perrier and Alka-Seltzer, and guess who is his sexy American girlfriend. So what I'm saying to you was it was slow going this morning, with me still feeling not so fresh, and so forth.
Then I realized that Edsel had taken my shoe, and it's my FAVORITE shoe, and what was even more annoying was while I nauseatedly tried to search for said shoe, ALL I COULD HEAR was Ned saying, "You know what I would do. What I would do is put my shoes away each time, so Edsel couldn't get them." Guess where I want to put my shoe every time Ned says that.
Anyway I was searching and yelling at poor Edsel at the same time, who of course had no idea what he'd done wrong because he was probably eating my shoe at 2 a.m. and that's just a faded memory now. It's in his scrapbook, along with strands of my hair and threads from my underthings.
By the time I found the FUCKING SHOE, which was BY THE FRONT DOOR and yeah he BETTER think about leaving out that front door, that damn dog, poor Eds was under the dining room table, with his tail down and his head divining water, so dipped was it. I felt terrible then.
Oh, speaking of mops, the reason that mop is in here is because I was Silkwood Showering everything from when that poor bird was in here a few weeks back, and I know you enjoy my prompt attention to the matter of putting said mop away. My POINT is, Iris now has a bell collar, but I've yet to put a lock on the screen door, and yesterday I saw her trying to get back in from the back yard, and her mouth looked...not right. She had it hanging open in a way that based on my 87 years of owning cats, made me slam the big door shut right away.
She stared up at me with her sightless eyes, and there in her mouth was a big ol' cicada. I of course don't know which kind, but what if it was one of the 17-year ones, that took a generation to get here, only to be crunched by a blind belled cat? I say if you're that stupid you deserve it, man. Don't take that long to arrive if your defenses are that low.
Okay, I really gotta go. When I finally got out of bed yesterday, I washed the new sheets my mother got me, and put them on the bed, and then when I went back into the room, someone had barfed all over them. I thought I was the sick one. Do I have an Elliott/ET thing with someone here, or is my house the most annoying Home O' Pets ever invented?
Don't answer that.