Here's my problem. (I act like I have only the one.) I get bored, then I set up too much stuff in my life, then I get overwhelmed at the chaos and cut stuff out, and then I get bored again.
What the Sam Hill is wrong with me?
My job, since it changed, is overwhelming, and lately I've been working in my little hiding place in the building because OH MY GOD with people talking to me all day. Yesterday I was trying to work at my desk, and I had on my headphones, which is the universal sign for "Do not disturb" in open-floor-plan speak.
A hand waved between me and my computer screen.
It was Griff. We don't even work on the same account anymore. "What." I asked him, in my approachable way, removing my headphones resentfully.
"You know what I hate? I hate when women fish through their bags all day. I'm in line at the grocery store, and some woman is up there, 'Oh, where's my wallet?'"
Griff's funeral will be held Thursday at 2:00.
Anyway, so work is busy, and a lot of people have busy jobs so that shouldn't be such a big deal, but then also, why the fuck do I know so many people? Like, why not have two or three good friends, and cut out the riffraff? I know no one feels sorry for me, but it's a lot of upkeep, you know what I'm saying? This person is IMing me. This person is texting me. This person is emailing me, and I can't keep up with all that, plus my job, my blog comments, my Pie on the Face page, my 14 pets, my whole house-owning, plus my hobbies like sewing and church.
I think I'm more easily overwhelmed than most people. Do you feel easily overwhelmed, or is it just me?
I always get like this when I'm busy at work.
The whole time I had Lottie I felt way too overwhelmed. I mean, a puppy is a LOT. Now, a kitten? To me, that's easy. Kittens are very set it and forget it. Especially this one. She spends 21 hours a day batting her toys around. This morning, the alarm went off, and she dashed in, knocked my reading glasses off the table, and sideways spider kitty-d her way out the door. kittee see you wen she see you.
The point of my story is, the whole time Lottie was here, which was three months, I felt inches from weeping. It was too much. And then as soon as she was gone and I was over the crushing heartbreak of her absence, I thought, Well, what can I do next?
Chaos. I seem to thrive on and abhor it. What IS that? Do you do that?
Speaking of chaos, I tried to photograph the mercury that is Hazel last night.
Oh my god. Lu say forget. I took 21 pictures of her (I just counted) and they were all like this.
Here's one where she flopped down for half a second. She was probably thinking, "What can I do next?" the way I do.
I've been putting her food dish up unless the door is closed to her room, because four times now Edsel has gone in and eaten her kitten food, and I hope his ass gets big as a house. I hope no amount of Tracy Anderson will burn it off, and I'd like to know who wished that on me, you dick. Anyway, this morning I put a huge mess of food in her dish, thinking she could have it all day while I shut her in the room, and when I returned to her room 10 minutes later, she'd eaten the entire thing.
Which I guess is good, because she is NOT HAVING the being shut in the room thing, anyway. She'd rather be out where Iris can hiss at her.
Oh, also, I made a vet appointment for her, and of course I lied to the vet. I didn't want her to judge me. You can. But I didn't want her to. And it wasn't even the vet, it was the vet assistant answering person.
"Hi. I have to make an appointment for my new kitten," I said. "I'm June Gardens. I've been in there with Lottie, Edsel, Lily and Iris." Already I sounded crazy.
"Okay. How old would you say your kitty is?"
"Six weeks."
"Okay, six weeks. That's too young for flea meds, and too young for shots."
(It is? She's already had both.)
"Are you keeping her from the other cats?" the woman asked.
"Oh, yes," I said, as I watched her play on the floor while Iris and Lily glowered at her.
"Aren't my, um, other cats vaccinated against whatever she might have wrong anyway?" I asked.
"No," the vet person said. "They're indoor cats, so you only had them vaccinated against indoor cat issues."
See. This is why you don't lie to your vet. I didn't want to HEAR it from her that I let the cats outside. The problem with people who love animals is the people part. There's nothing more judge-y than other animal people. Probably humans who have human children are worse, but fortunately I don't have to deal with that.
A few years ago, I wrote a Purple Clover about Lily, about how she was 100% an indoor cat, and you know she really was back then, and how one day she just let herself out the screen door, as best I could guess, and had disappeared.
Some woman left a comment about what a terrible person I was. "I always remember to lock the screen door so my kitties can't get out," she smugged, and right when she called her cats her "kitties," I knew everything I needed, although I'd already been tipped off when she felt the need to leave a comment judging me as it was.
She went on about the heroic measures she takes to keep all her "kitties" safe, and all I could do was hope one day her husband unlocked the triple-locked door and escaped himself. Run, husband! Be free!
I sound way crabbier today than I actually feel.
Anyway, Hazel goes to the vet tomorrow, and I find out for sure that she's a girl, even though I'm 90% sure I'm right. She's awfully tomboy-ish, though, and I may have a little lesbian on my hands. My "kitty" is a lesbian.
Crap. I'd better go. Ima be late for work, and thank god I've injected some chaos into my day.
Overwhelmingly,
Jooooon
