Fred hit the doc-in-the-box as soon as the office opened and found – to no one’s surprise – that he has bronchitis. The doctor tried to give him a prescription for tussionex (which has lots and lots of hydrocodone in it), but Fred didn’t want it because it puts him to sleep. Some days, the man thinks of no one but himself. Oddly, even though he’s had two doses of the antibiotic, he’s feeling worse instead of better. Because, instead of staying in bed, napping, and eating junk food all day (the Robyn method of dealing with illness), he went out and supervised the pool guy as he cleaned the pool. Then he cleaned the solar cover off and dragged it back onto the pool all by his lonesome, which left him so lightheaded he had to take a nap.
Because I didn’t have to wait for the spud to get on the bus this morning, I managed to get to work half an hour earlier than usual. It was really nice having the office to myself. I got a bunch of bills paid, did a lot of filing, and by about 9:00 was settled in surfing and catching up on journals. That’s pretty much how I spent the day, except for a quick run to the bank.
When I got home, Fred was talking to someone from a maid service — we haven’t really given up looking for cleaners who won’t charge an arm and a leg — and after she left, we went out back and sat on the patio and watched the cats explore the backyard. The weather’s been beautiful for the last several days, sunny and around 75, with a clear blue sky. I’m sure it won’t last for long, but it’s nice while it lasts. Especially considering it’s about 50 in Maine right now. The one thing I don’t much miss about Maine is the cold weather.
Fancypants is the one who likes going outside the most, but I suspect that’s only so he can search for a way out of the backyard. The entire time he’s outside he skulks around the perimeter peering through the slats of the fence. Either he’s trying to get out or he’s selling kitty drugs. He hasn’t tried digging under the fence yet, but I’m sure it’s only a matter of time.
A few months ago, when the pool was still warm enough to swim in (or at least it wasn’t so cold we’d immediately perish upon contact with the water), the cats were out wandering around the backyard. Stimpy apparently spotted a butterfly or grasshopper flying by and immediately went after it. I swear to you, he was leaping at the very least five feet in the air. Twice he bounced up and flailed his front paws at the butterfly/grasshopper, and on the third bounce, he hit the fence with his back feet and actually ran paralell to the ground for three or four steps before pushing off, flipping over, and finally landing on the lawn. I laughed so hard I almost passed out, and if I’d had the camcorder out there with me, I’d be $100,000 richer, damnit.
For tomorrow, Fred has agreed to write a guest entry. I’m frightened to see what he writes about, but I did inform him that he could write about the wonder that is Robyn. —–
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