reading: Vanish, by Tess Gerritsen. It’s very, very good so far. I intended to go to sleep at 11:00 last night, but ended up staying up until midnight because I just couldn’t put the book down.
Also, she’s got a site, and a blog she updates regularly. I love it when authors I like have blogs! I really like her Creepy Biological Facts section, too.
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I woke up at a little before three this morning, turned over, and realized that there was a light on. As I pondered who would be up at that time, turning on lights, it went off. A moment later the air conditioning kicked on, and I thought that maybe Fred had woken up sweating and decided to turn the air down a little.
This morning after Fred left for work, I snoozed for a little while. After snoozing for ten minutes or so, I looked at the clock and realized it was 6:40. I further realized that I didn’t hear the spud up and moving around, and she’s usually up by that time. I got up, put on my nightgown, and walked over to her room. She was laying in bed, eyes open, staring at the ceiling.
“Are you planning on getting up?” I asked.
“Yeah. I don’t have to take a shower,” she said.
“Why’s that?”
“Because I got up at 2:30 and took my shower.”
“Why?”
“I thought it was 6:00.”
“Oh.”
When I was a few years younger than she is, the phone rang in the middle of the night. I woke up, thought my alarm went off, turned it off, got up, got dressed, and walked into the kitchen to look out the window.
My mother, standing in the kitchen, said “What are you doing?”
“Seeing if it’s snowing,” I said.
“Why?”
“So I’ll know whether I need to wear my thermal underwear,” I said. To explain: I had a morning paper route, and let me tell you, delivering papers in the winter sucked ASS.
I walked back across the kitchen and poured myself a bowl of Cheerios.
“What are you doing?” my mother asked.
“Eating breakfast before I deliver papers,” I said.
“At 1:30 in the morning?”
“Oh,” I said. And went back to bed, where I overslept because I’d turned my alarm off.
(The phone call? A girl calling for my brother.)
When I told Fred this morning what the spud had done, he thought it was the funniest. thing. ever. I forsee a lot of spud-teasing this evening.
* * *
My sister and nephew and mother are flying to Virginia Beach tomorrow. My father’s currently working in Norfolk, and they’re going down to visit him and check out the area. When I was talking to my mother earlier today (she seems to have a sixth sense about when I’m trying to get some housework done, ’cause that’s when she always calls. Today I was grateful for the break, though, since I’d just finished scrubbing out five litter boxes with bleach and hot water when she called and my back was starting to hurt.), she said “You know, it’s not too late to change your mind and drive up to stay with us!”
I’d be tempted if it wasn’t twelve hours away. But then, I did a 10-hour drive to and from
Myrtle Beach last year, didn’t I?
It’s probably a good thing I’m covering for someone at the pet store next Tuesday morning, or I might seriously consider driving to Virginia.
* * *
The kittens are currently at the vet’s, waiting to be spayed and neutered and chipped and vaccinated against the rabies. They were all excited when I opened the doors to their rooms this morning, far earlier than I usually do, and then confused when I tossed them all in the carrier. They’re such good monkeys; they didn’t howl even once on the way to the vet’s office, and in fact they curled up together and slept most of the way, except when I was singing along with Natalie Merchant (Beloved Wife always just gets me right HERE), and then they sat up and looked at me and said “It’s not enough that you’ve thrown us all in a box and are driving us over a bumpy road to an unknown destination, you also have to SING? Our young and tender ears cannot withstand your caterwauling, lady.” So I stopped singing.
At the vet’s, I helped the woman running the front desk weigh all the kittens. Callie was far and away the heaviest, at 3 pounds 3 ounces, Smitty and Barrett were each 3 pounds, and Sugarbutt was the lightest at 2 pounds 6 ounces.
On a side note, Fred called when I was leaving the vet’s, and I said “Sad Eyes weighed the least. He’s only gained about 2 ounces since he saw the vet last week.”
And Fred said “Who?”
“Sad Eyes,” I said.
“Who is Sad Eyes?”
“Oh. I mean, Sugarbutt.”
“His real name is Sad Eyes?”
“Yes,” I said.
“What an awful name. No wonder you gave him a nickname!”
Heh.
If everything goes well, I’ll be picking the little brats up late this afternoon, and tonight they’ll probably be running around like their tails are on fire as if nothing ever happened.
I spent the morning cleaning the house, and cleaned all the nasty little marks they’ve left on the carpet in both rooms. Between the clean carpet, the clean litter boxes, and the fresh litter, they won’t know what is going on.
Smitty’s such a little poser.
I cannot help kissing Bear atop his little noggin. Clearly he doesn’t enjoy it as much as I do.
Every evening, Bear and Smitty jump up on the pillow on my lap and sleep all evening long while I watch TV.
If I move around too much, Smitty gets annoyed and jumps over to the love seat.
Now THAT’s a long tongue.
Callie and Bear fighting. Callie looks like a little devil kitty. Check out the closeup:
Pure evil.
All of today’s uploaded pictures are
here.
* * *
Previously
2004: Phil Hellmuth is a whiny little bitch.
2003: “And then he told me he likes to have sex with you in the break room every day at 11!” he lied.
2002: No entry.
2001: Recovery.
2000: No one ever said I had a long attention span!]]>