12/13/07

 

From: Robyn To: Fred Date: December 12, 2007. Subject: ::drool:: Come home and make some of these for me, would you? My knee hurts and it’s drizzling outside, so I’m going to go back to bed and read for a while, and then I think I’m just going to go ahead and become a bed person. Alert Richard Simmons, thx.

 

My Bed Person plans met a pretty quick end when (1) Fred wouldn’t come home and make me up a bunch of biscuit sandwiches and (2) I got bored reading and had to roll my ass out of bed. It was fun for all of those 24 minutes, though. I love my life as a non-working slacker slug, but there are days when there are so many things that need to be done, and none of them are things that I WANT to do and really none of them are that URGENT, that I just kind of lay there and my mind screams my list of stuff to do at me, and I’m paralyzed by the “I don’t wanna do THAT”s. When that happens, I let the reasonable part of my brain (a very small part of my brain, I’ll hasten to point out before you haters think it to yourselves) take over and make me a list. Yesterday morning at 8:22 my list was: 1. Get out of bed. 2. Check my email. 3. Take a shower. 4. Spend some time with Punki and Felicia. 5. Finish cleaning out the garage. Usually I have to say the list out loud to myself, since that makes it more official to me. What would make it super-duper official to me would be writing it down. Oh! Or making a fancy list in Word complete with graphics and boxes for checking off each when it’s been accomplished. That would be WAY official. But I think for the time being I’ll stick with the spoken-aloud list, and if that fails to continue feeling official enough, I’ll move on to the written word. So I did the first four things on my list, and when I was done hanging out with Punki and Felicia (my hanging-out time with them is pretty much brought to an end when they decide they’ve had about all the petting they can stand, and they go over and start eating in a dismissive “You may go.” fashion), I got my iPod and went out to the garage to finish what I’d started Tuesday afternoon. Fred’s been saying that it was time for another trip to the dump, so I decided before he did that, I needed to get the garage straightened out, and all the trash piled up so we could get rid of all the trash in one trip. Tuesday afternoon I took care of the downstairs of the garage, coming up with a nice big pile of trash, and another (smaller) pile of stuff to donate to a local charity. Yesterday morning, once I got going, I straightened and cleaned out the upstairs part of the garage. It didn’t take long – maybe an hour – and when I was done I had a bunch more trash to add to the pile and a few more things to add to the donation pile, but at least it was done. I think what we really need in the upstairs part of the garage are either a few shelf units, or maybe just some shelves hung from the wall, but really how organized does it need to be? There’s the Danielle’s-storage section, the Christmas-stuff storage section, the luggage-storage section, and the other-crap storage section, and there’s actually not a whole lot of stuff up there. Plenty of room for more! That accomplished, I went back into the house, ate breakfast, watched The Real Housewives (HATE Tamra, and could Vicki have been more of a jealous bitch when she found out that Quinn was dating a 26 year-old? How is it her concern, again? Could Tamra be more of a plastic, hateful, insecure bitch?), a few minutes of Oprah, some other assorted random stuff, and then spent more time with Punki and Felicia. Read magazines. Checked for eggs. Did some vacuuming. Thought about rearranging the computer room (but since I’ll need help with that, I put it off). Puttered around online. Went through some pictures and uploaded them to be printed out. Talked to Fred on the phone. Took a 10-minute nap. Kissed Newt on top of his fuzzy head. And Yesterday, in the course of a few hours, Fred came home sick from work (everything in his body was fleein’ the interview), I started getting a sore throat and feeling fuzzy-headed, and once we were both feeling poorly, Stinkerbelle began vomiting blood. She’d vomited several times during the day (though we didn’t know it was her because all we were finding were the puddles of vomit with no cat around) and then she wouldn’t eat at snacktime (a rarity, because she’s the biggest pig of them all) and then Fred found her in the process of vomiting, and there was a LOT of blood. We took her to the emergency vet, because we always (I always, really) tend toward the OMIGOD SHE’S DYING! hysteria when it comes to the cats. After an examination and hearing about the foster kitties doing the same thing, the vet said he thought it was most likely a virus. They could have done the x-ray and blood tests, but he seemed pretty confident that it was a virus (the blood was bright red, which meant it was from irritation of her esophagus; if there’d been blood in her stomach, it would have been darker and would have looked like coffee grounds) and offered up something to coat her throat and soothe the irritation, and an antibiotic just in case, so we went that route. (A side note on Stinkerbelle: (1) She is SO SMART. Almost every time she vomited yesterday, it was near the litter box. All the other cats just barf wherever they happen to be, but our smart girl knew that you’re supposed to vomit in (near) the toilet! (2) I was sure there was going to be a real issue with a strange person touching her – I thought she’d probably growl and hiss and fight like crazy, but she was an ANGEL. (3) The vet tech said that Stinkerbelle was a beautiful cat, and I could see Fred’s ego swell to twice its size.) This morning, Stinkerbelle is acting like her old self (though she did vomit a little after eating), Fred is feeling a thousand times better, and my sore throat is mostly gone. Yesterday didn’t include exercise, because my left knee hurts and it was drizzling out. No exercise today, either. I’ve already showered, and I have a doctor’s appointment (a regular appointment with my gastroenterologist wherein he will feel up my liver, send me for bloodwork and tell me to come back in six months. Probably, he’ll also mention once more that the Primary Sclerosing Cholangitis isn’t a definite diagnosis, just that they’ve ruled out everything else so that’s probably what it is, and he’s never had a woman with it before, though he recently diagnosed a 30 year-old male with it. I’m a freak of nature! Or, as I remind him, the exception that proves the rule.) in a little while. Once I’ve showered, I don’t exercise. It’s the LAW. After that, I’m coming home, picking up the stuff I’m donating, and hauling it off to be donated. After that, who knows? Maybe I’ll get crazy and do some grocery shopping.

 

Spanky’s got the Lady-whatchoo-doin-out-there… …get-your-butt-in-here-so-I-can-keep-a-proper-eye-on-you… …bluuuuuuuuuuues.

 

Previously 2006: I think we’re making progress. 2005: It’s hard to resist a chunky little orange kitty. 2004: (I’m not that much of an asshole. But it sure is fun to imagine!) 2003: Yet another meme. 2002: But I’ll say this – if your kitten is suffering from anal leakage, y’all, TAKE IT TO THE VET. 2001: No entry. 2000: “Why does it smell lemony fresh down here?” 1999: Martha Stewart would take one look at my tree and sob loudly, I’m sure.]]>