Today it is almost like spring. It’s forty degrees outside and the world is my oyster, baby.
I really have cabin fever, let me tell you. I keep going shopping. That’s a sure sign right there. Shopping for house wares. I have the urge to do so today. I have myself convinced that my life will be oh-so-much better if I have a $70 shower curtain and now I’m fretting about it. Now, any other time of the year, I would shower without a curtain, naked as Tiffany in Playboy, letting water spray to and fro, giving not a care in the world to how closely my bath accessories matched the dang paint.
Because it is winter, and I know that I will be trapped in here for another four months or something, I suddenly give a damn.
(I almost said ‘shit’ but I’ve been told that I swear too fucking much on this page.)
I spent yesterday cleaning my living room. It’s bizarre, not having boxes and the computers of other people sitting in our living room. It’s a bit unnatural. The cats don’t know what to make of it. They’re very concerned and have taken to hiding in the bedroom, which is next on the list for overhauling. Esteban did his part of the cleanup after he came home from work’ he straightened our twenty DVD boxes up. Phew. Thanks a lot, hon.
I have today off, as it is President’s Day and I work for one of five companies that actually take the day off (not including the government or banks, which take off any day they possibly can). I’ve given a lot of thought to Presidents today. Specifically, Andrew Jackson, as I dropped $50 at Lanc’me on a lipstick, an eye shadow base (not the actual eye shadow, mind you, a cream which goes UNDER the eye shadow and won’t technically be seen), and a brush with which to apply said eye shadow base.
Then I made a quick call to the pet groomer. Tilly has been gaining massive amounts of dead hair and leaving clumps of disgusting gray fur everywhere. In her favorite sleeping spot on the sofa, it looks like someone eviscerated a bunny rabbit. She’s got terribly long hair. Here is a picture I took of the cats on Saturday (Chelsea is minute and orange, Tilly is the black tiger-striped gargantuan surly one).
I put down a blanket because I’m getting tired of sheering the sofa. The cats are uncharacteristically close to one another, enough so that I felt the need to chronicle the event via photography. I even emailed it to Esteban at work because he’s a big teddy bear and I believe loves the cats more than he loves me. Or at least he never stops conversations with adults and says, ‘Look at my wife! Look at the way she’s sitting there! Isn’t she cute? It’s like she actually knows what we’re talking about!’
I was able to get Tilly into the groomer if I got her there as soon as possible so I busted tail back home and shoved the cat into the cat lunchbox (so named because it looks very much like a large lunchbox, for possibly a giant construction worker who maybe likes to eat cats or something) and dropped her off. It went fairly smoothly. She only hissed once at the cage. I was terribly afraid that she’d bite Katie, her extremely young groomer, but she did not. When I picked her up, Katie had tied a green bandana around her neck. Let me tell you, I think I’ve become one of those people who use their pets as substitutes for children, because she looked so darned cute, my voice immediately hit dolphin range and I started squeaking ‘Oh, wook at my wittle Tiwwy kitty!!! She wooks so precious!’. Everyone in the store spontaneously vomited and then I realized what had just come out of my mouth and fled, cat in hand. It may be months before I can set foot inside that place again, for which Tilly will undoubtedly be very pleased.
This morning, Esteban and I drove through Starbucks together and we met by Surly Girl, who has warmed up considerably to me. She came out smiling ‘I see you’ve got a partner today.’ I smiled back and said ‘He’s my sugar daddy.’ She laughed and said ‘Almost didn’t recognize you because the music is all turned down low and it’s all mello.’
Esteban drove away quickly and informed me that I had to stop going to Starbucks. He’s concerned that I’ve bonded with the baristas. I tried to explain that she was only gathering information to tell Starbucks Guy, because I’m certain that Esteban’s presence in the Thumping Car will be reported in explicit detail.
How cool is this: No Pseudonym Scott sent a Krispy Kreme donut home with Esteban yesterday. For me. Scott rocks the house out. I haven’t actually seen said Krispy Kreme yet, so I hope Esteban hasn’t eaten it on me. I’d have to have him replaced, if that were the case. All’s fair in love and Krispy Kremes, you know.
Ok, the results of the quiz have been tallied and there is a tie.
Tied for First Place are: Merecat and Veggie with a perfect score of 110. Which scares me. Seriously. Those were some hard questions and I’m going to be checking the bushes outside my house. Chauffi should be the only one there, to my knowledge. Have you been inviting friends, Jake?
It should be noted that Meagan also had a perfect score of 110 but she also admitted that she cheated, which I totally respect. You gotta love a drive for perfection.
Joana, Tovah, Frank and my sister, Mo, are all tied for third place. I’m not sure who Frank is. I hope he’s not that designer guy from Trading Spaces, because I totally dissed his fugly jungle vine thing.
(If your name wasn’t turned into a link it’s because I’m not entirely certain which someone you are OR you don’t have a web page, like my technologically challenged sister Mo. If you send me an email with a link, I will edit this entry.)
Ok, how this will be handled: Merecat and Veggie are fighting it out for 1st and 2nd place. Joana, Tovah, Frank and Mo are battling for 3rd place through 6th places (although it doesn’t really matter, since 4th, 5th, and 6th places get squat).
The tie-breaking questions:
What is my favorite flavor of ice cream?
The tie-breaking tie breaker: Pick a number between 1 and 100.
Those people listed should send me emails with the answers. The winners and prizes will be announced Wednesday. Void where prohibited.
