Well, I got paid last night. Checked this morning to make sure the money was in there, then I opened all my bills and added them up.
Out of money again.
Am I the only one living this way? Because by the way, I hate it. And it's not like I can say, Oh, I have to eliminate this spending. My bills were for Duke Energy, my car, my mortgage, a medical bill I'm paying off, and my phone/cable/Internet. Wooo! Fun. Fun purchases.
Anyway. At least I have a roof over my head. A roof with new paint on the ceilings. I don't know if I told you that for Ned's birthday, his dad gave him a gift certificate to Lowe's, which really was a gift for me, and I'm enjoying this trend quite a bit. Next year Ned's dad will give him a Hello Kitty sparkly necklace, I just know it!
Oh, I keep meaning to tell you that the other day, someone forwarded me a "Cat Found" announcement in the Charlotte Craigslist, and the cat was gray and white. How Lily would have scooted those short legs all the way to Charlotte is beyond me, but I'm figuring she took a cab. Or maybe she flew. United Felines. No, I really DON'T know how I've maintained a blog that people actually read.
Still. Even though it was a long shot, I emailed the ad. "I have a missing cat," I wrote, and explained my story. A few hours later, the person wrote back.
We took it to the pound.
With God, all things are possible.
I swear. That's what it said. That cold note, then a signature about God. With God, all things are possible, including the opportunity to write the least-empathetic email, ever.
I wrote back. "Well, if it's my cat, I'd be willing to drive to the pound in Charlotte. I know it's highly unlikely it isn't her, but your description really sounds like her. Here is a picture. Did the cat you found look like this? Thanks for your time."
Not your cat.
I heart God.
She attached pictures of a cat who looked not like Lily but like Roger, and in case you're thinking I'm going out to get another cat soon, you are sadly mistaken. From 1994 to 2011, I had Mr. Horkheimer, Ruby DeLuna and Francis Carport. Those were my three regularly scheduled cats, nothing happened to them, they all remained here with me until they got old and sick and died. Then ever since then I've been like Larry on Three's Company. Not that he dated cats but you know what I mean.
When you adopt cats, June, they're toast.
God is my homie.
So that was that, and what're you gonna do?
I am off. With no money in my pocket and no fluffy cat on my condo.
I may be poor. Black. I may even by ugly. But dear God I'm here.
