I took the day off yesterday to work on my freelance work, and then I never worked on my freelance work.
Welcome to me. Welcome to the splendor of me.
The first thing I did was get together for coffee with Lilly of Chris and Lilly, and I like how she has to be half a person whenever I refer to her. But here's why: "I'm having coffee with Lilly," I told my mother.
"Your cat Lily?"
You know, technically I have coffee with Cat Lilly every day. You know what I should get? Is a tiger, and name her Tiger Lilly. That wouldn't be confusing at all, to have my tiger named the same thing as my cat. Fortunately for all of us, once I moved old Tiger Lilly in, she'd quickly be the only pet, kind of like the time some yahoo brought a praying mantis to "capture a bug and bring it to the school aquarium" day. We all watched our submissions get eaten, one by one, with just old green Laura Dern remaining in there.
Faithful Reader Paula is watching that Large Giant Lies or whatever it's called, and she's become obsessed with Laura Dern--or as my mother called her, Lorna Doone. My mother is watching that show, too. Stupid White Lies. What's it called?
Anyway, so it was good to see Lilly, even though she pointed out it'd only been 19 days since we'd seen each other and not my usual required 30. But, see, I'd asked her to coffee, so I didn't have to form my huffy, "GOD, I just SAW her" thought.
I'm a delight.
Also, I took a long spring drive in the country, something I have always loved doing. I've always wanted to live in the country. I never have. Movin' to the country, gonna eat a lot of peaches. Movin' to the country, gonna eat a lotta peaches.
PEACHES COME IN A CAN! THEY WERE PUT THERE BY A MAN!
I miss the '90s.
Anyway, the other crucial thing to happen is that the thing happened again. I had ZERO SYMPTOMS and then yesterday I woke up 100% stuffed up, and I can't taste anything, and I am miserable. It got worse yesterday as the day wore on. Why, god? I don't understand how I keep getting these instant colds, just add water.
If you get out your Big Book of June Events (what color do you see the book? I see kind of an old-timey sage green), you'll note I just got OVER the same thing about two weeks ago. What the HELL? I eat right.
God, that bolt of lightening almost hit me.
Anyway, after I drove to the country, ate zero peaches, had coffee with Lilly the person and not the cat, I headed to the grocery store, where it was chicken chili day, so I got a big tub, and then oh yeah, I really should change the filter in my furnace because pets, and oooo, I need coffee for work and I should get decaf and then caf for bad days, and oh geez, my allergy medici--
sploop.
The chili. The chili fell out my hands, y'all. The chili fell out my hands and due to that whole gravity nonsense, sploop.
Oh my god, humiliating.
That didn't stop me from getting chili again anyway.
Is chili fattening?
Anyway, that floor chili was the last thing I remember tasting. Ever since then it's been, Oh, I'm consuming some orange cold liquid that tastes like nothing and, oh, here's hot brown nothing that I'm drinking.
My grandmother was an excellent cook, and the best thing was her mashed potatoes. I lived for those. Eventually, my grandfather retired and they moved to Florida and then North Carolina, my grandparents did, and I didn't see them much. But eventually when I was 25, my father and I drove to North Carolina and had Christmas dinner with them AND I HAD A COLD.
All I'd wanted to do was taste those mashed potatoes, and there I was. Oh, the texture seems fantastic.
Just think. I was in the same state as Ned and didn't know him yet. I could've asked to borrow the car, driven from Asheville to Raleigh, knocked on his stupid college door and said, "In 22 years we're going to meet, and Ima tell you right now: Just KEEP ON WALKIN'. When I write you on OK Cupid, KEEP ON WALKIN'. ...Well, see, OK Cupid will be this dating site online. Well, online is going to be..."
Did you ever wonder about people you met at certain times? Like, 1990 me would not have liked 1990 Ned, for shizzle. He didn't have long hair, he wasn't in a band, he was in a fraternity. No way. But I feel like for the first 45 years of my life, no matter when I'd met Marvin, I'd have liked him right away. If I met him now, though, he'd no longer be my type.
Not rich enough. I'm sorry, but that's become important to me in m'twilight years.
While I was writing you, I felt kind of funny, so I turned around and...
You guys. God knows I love Lily the cat, god KNOWS I do, but holy Christ, she's an idiot. First of all, she doesn't know to meow to get my attention. And she doesn't know how to come in. You go to the door and she just stands there on that shelf. I've even shut the door on her, telling her she HAS to jump down and walk through the door, but it doesn't help.
So sometimes I pick her round football self up, place her on the deck, and she always
ALWAYS
starts heading the wrong way. "Inside is this, way, Lily."
Poor Lily. At least she's pretty.
On the other end of the spectrum, we have Mr. I Be Smart and Bored and Maybeee a Claw in Edz Would Brake Up Moe Not Nee. Which is a long name. Almost as long as Steely Dan.
Speaking of SD, yesterday Alf, my handyman, came to give me a new gate, because y'all gave me so many tips that I could afford the $165 that cost me! That gate has been a travesty for years. The wood is rotting, and if Edsel had any chutzpah he'd had escaped through it ages ago. Also, you had to...LIFT it UP in order to open and shut it, otherwise it'd drag across the ground in a most undelightful way.
Bonus: Edsel-peeing shot! It has to weather awhile before Alf can paint it. The gate, not Edsel's pee.
The point is, after Alf my handyman and I exchanged numerous giggly texts:
Alf: The 42" gate is really cheap. Would six inches make that big of a difference?
June: I'LL say it does!
Alf: heeee!
June: heeeeee!
We are both in our 50s.
Anyway, so after we revisited 7th grade a LOT, and even texted "stud" and slayed our own selves, he came over and had the back door open (heeeee) while he worked. This left the screen door with the hole in it (Alf's next project) open all afternoon, which meant Steely Dan could SOAR through the hole like a tiger at the circus, or my pet Tiger Lilly, all afternoon.
He was obsessed.
"That cat is crazy," said Alf, indifferently, as he worked. "Is that the one who was in the tree last time?"
No, that was Iris.
"You've got a lot of cats," mused Alf, and his Obvious Seminar starts next month. Sign up soon.
At 4:00, Edsel and I retired to the bed, because it was one year exactly that Tallulah died. We talked about our favorite Lu memories, and remembered the good times we had with her, and how much we missed her and then Edsel told me he'd really like a new dog friend and won't I please go get that pitty that needs adopting?
Shut up. He did SO.
And she's a medium! Look how it'll save me in psycics!
I know. I KNOW. You don't have to tell me.
Okay, I'd better go. I feel awful and my head is stuffy and I feel awful. Did I mention? What the HECK with these colds from nowhere?
Stuffily,
Jooon
