this address. And change your bookmarks!
* * *
I had physical therapy yesterday morning for the first time since surgery. The physical therapist asked about my pain – I’m having NO pain in my back at all, yay! – and looked at my back, and told me that my back is looking MUCH better. So much better, in fact, that I’m going again in two weeks, and then another two weeks after that – assuming the pain doesn’t suddenly reappear – I’ll probably be discharged as a PT patient.
I’ve gotta say, I’m going to miss the back massages. I might even have to suck it up and start getting regular massages.
Or maybe I’ll just talk about it and never do it!
* * *
To my UTTER shock and amazement, the motherfucking floor guy didn’t show up yesterday at all. When Fred called him a little before 9:00, he told Fred to give him “An hour and some change” and he’d have his “demo guy” come out to start the job, then his “floor guy” come out to finish the job.
At noon, I had to get up and leave the house, because sitting around waiting for Bungholio to show up would just stress me out. So I went to Target, where I couldn’t find anything I went to look for, OF COURSE, then I went to Shoe Carnival, where I couldn’t find any shoes that I liked at ALL, then I went to Publix, where I bought a chef salad for lunch, and while I was standing in the nut aisle pondering soy nuts (soy is something I need to not eat too much of, since it can mess with my thyroid, but limited amounts are okay, and I was in the mood for something crunchy and salty, but all they had were these HUGE bags of soy nuts, and that wasn’t what I wanted) Fred called me.
“Oh, you won’t believe this,” he said.
“What?”
“I just tried to call him again, and there was no answer. Then like two minutes later the phone rings, and it’s his cell phone. It was his wife, trying to sound like she’d just woken up, and she said that he was out getting medication for her.”
“Oooookay…” I said.
“She said that her mother died, and he’s been helping her deal with it, so – get this – she hopes I won’t hold it against him if he can’t get the job done today.”
“Oh! Her mother died!” I said, too loudly. “Well. Isn’t that CONVENIENT?” Isn’t it strange how when people want to get out of doing something and don’t want you to be pissed off at them, a family member conveniently dies?
“I just kept saying ‘When do you think he could call me?'” Fred said. “And she finally said that he might be able to give me a call tonight.”
After spending a little more time fuming, Fred went into the bathroom and did what he should have done from the beginning.
But I’m going to let him tell that story.
* * *
While I was in Maine, the manager of the cat shelter I volunteer for sent out a couple of emails looking for foster homes for various and sundry kittens. Since I was in Maine and because Fred’s a party pooper, obviously I couldn’t take any of the kittens. I emailed the shelter manager to let her know I was in Maine, but as soon as I got back I’d be ready to take in fosters. When we adopted Sugarbutt and Tom Cullen last year, Fred’s first caveat was that we never foster again, but I talked him down from that and in the end we agreed that we wouldn’t foster again until the boys were “older.”
Their first birthday came and went (at the end of June), but I knew that I was going to be leaving for Maine in a few weeks, so I put it off.
When I got back from Maine, first we thought I had hepatitis and then I was so worn out I couldn’t think of doing anything, and then there was the gallbladder surgery, and then this past weekend I was looking at some old entries of mine, with pictures of the first batch of foster kittens we had, and I got the yearning.
Monday evening I emailed the shelter manager to let her know I was ready to foster if she had any kittens in need of some fostering. She emailed me back and said “Thanks, but all I’ve got is a 3 week-old bottle-fed baby.”
My response? “Gimme!” (Actually what I said was “I’ll take him, if you don’t mind worried phone calls for the first few days!”
And then I didn’t hear back from her, and I thought,
Well, maybe she likes taking care of the kitten herself and I thought about emailing her and saying “Keep me in mind if you get any cats in who need fostering!”, but I decided that perhaps she doesn’t sit in front of her computer all freakin’ day long like I do, and I decided to give her a call at a later point.
Then yesterday afternoon I was sitting in front of my computer when the phone rang. It was the shelter manager, and she asked if I was serious about wanting to take the bottle-fed kitten.
You bet I was.
We haven’t named her yet, but for the time being I’m calling her Maddy (it’s one of the names Fred and I came up with last night, along with Sara Laughs, Sara Tidwell, Misery Chastain, and Mirabelle). She’s about 2 1/2 weeks old, and she’s ADORABLE. Of course, how can a kitten that age NOT be adorable, I ask you?
Not only is she bottle-fed, she’s also not at the point yet where she can go to the bathroom on her own – won’t be for a couple of weeks, I think – so I have to wipe her to stimulate things in that area. So far I’ve fed her twice – late last night and again this morning (I don’t have to get up in the middle of the night to feed her) and she eats like a champ and pees like a champ, but as of yet, there’s been no poop.
I’ll feel better when there’s been a bowel movement; at least I’ll know I’m doing everything right.
The other cats are freaked OUT, especially Sugarbutt, who was a bit clingy last night. Mister Boogers likes to think he’s a total tough guy, but when I’m in the cat room feeding the kitten I leave the door open and what does Mister Boogers do? Sits six feet away and growls. Not close enough that the terrifying 10-ounce kitten could actually GET to him or anything, but he feels like he’s defending his territory, I guess, and that’s good enough for him.
Okay, enough blather. On to a few pictures!
Does the cuteness KILL YOU? Because it oughta.
Full belly, empty bladder, happy baby.
All of the pictures I’ve uploaded today can be seen
here.
* * *
Reader yawny cat pics! (Don’t forget to
send yours in if you haven’t already!)
This is Robin’s pretty Mango, who is apparently wearing a Disney Princess hat, which isn’t in the picture. I think we should all buy Disney Princess hats for our cats. I know Mister Boogers would look smashing!
This is the beautiful Gracie, who belongs to Dana.
Dana’s Karpuz (who looks less like s/he is yawning than complaining about something. Hee!)
And Dana’s gorgeous Shadow. I love checking out Dana’s Flickr site, there’s always a cat pic or two to admire.
Thanks for sharing your pics, Dana and Robin!
* * *
Previously
2005: let’s just say I am NOT very fond of Robyn v. 2002 right now.
2004: My mother hung up the phone and said “If she wanted closure so bad, maybe she should have shown up at the nursing home to see her!”
2003: No entry.
2002: I think he has a camera hidden somewhere in the bathroom, and when I’m in the shower, an alarm goes off and tells him to call me immediately.
2001: Time to go cold turkey, Deb…
2000: WHEN WILL THE SUFFERING END???]]>