Sometimes I miss Maine with a visceral pain and I wonder whether Alabama will ever truly feel like home the way Maine does. Sometimes I wonder how on earth I ended up living so far from the ocean. Sometimes I am saddened knowing that I can never move back to Maine. Sometimes I wonder why I’m so resistant to change. Sometimes I can’t wait until Fred gets home from work, and I practically sit at the front window with my tongue hanging out, panting happily like a puppy. Sometimes I wonder if I could sneak something into Fred’s food to cut down on the gas factor. But I think he’d be seriously depressed if he didn’t have the Joy of Farting in his life. Sometimes I wish I could adopt every kitten I see, and let them live long, happy, healthy lives in comfort and peace. Sometimes I wish I could spay and neuter enough cats in the world so that there would never be another unwanted kitten. Sometimes I think people who are cruel to animals should be strung up by their toes and left there to slowly, painfully die. No, strike that. I always think that. Sometimes it amazes me that people who shit (figuratively speaking) on those around them can be surprised when no one wants to be near them. Sometimes I want to get pregnant IMMEDIATELY and give birth to triplets and spend the next 20 years raising them. (But mostly, I do not) Sometimes I wonder when I’m going to get my ass in gear and write down the stories which have been bouncing around in my mind for years. Sometimes I wish I could shave all the cats so I’d never have to see another dust bunny compiled of nothing but cat hair go sailing across the floor. Sometimes I wish I was someone who found cleaning the house fulfilling or soothing, or even something I could force myself to do on a daily basis. Sometimes I think about heading to Canada, swinging by to pick up Nance, visiting Mo, and dog-napping Vince. (But I know that the argument over who gets to be Thelma and who gets to be Louise would probably degenerate into a slapfight somewhere before we hit the Canadian border) Sometimes I think I’d like to live in Canada, then I remember it gets all cold and shit up there, and I consider Florida instead. Sometimes I lay in bed at night and think about my cottage, and it seems so real that I can almost touch it. And sometimes I end up dreaming about my cottage, and I wake with a smile on my face. Sometimes I lay in bed at night and dream about what I’d do if I won the lottery, and I come up with very elaborate ways to give money to friends anonymously so we wouldn’t have to do the “Take this money!”, “Oh, I couldn’t possibly!”, “TAKE IT!” dance. Sometimes I think I’m evil, because I laugh so hard I cry every time one of the cats gets startled and jumps three feet into the air. Sometimes I wonder how I lucked out in this life and ended up with such a great husband, kid, and life. Sometimes I’m just a great big sap.]]>