My Day, In Progress
(for August 30th)
4:07 am: I’m awakened by my bladder (the older I get, the more middle-of-the-night trips I have to make to the bathroom). I try to roll over in bed, but Miz Poo is laying on one side of me and Meester Boogers is stretched along the other side of me, effectively pinning me down. I flail and grunt and push, and finally the Booger deigns to move just enough for me to slide my legs around him and slip out of bed. Miz Poo follows me into the bathroom, sniffs at the cat food, decides she’s not hungry, and turns to watch me pee. I head back to bed, squinting at the clock on the VCR as I pass it, to see what time it is.
6:29 am: Meester Boogers lets out two very loud meows, waking me up. Worried that he’s brought a bird, mouse, possum, or other small critter (the possibilities are endless!) into the house and is in the middle of torturing it, I sit up, put on my glasses, and look over toward the cat bed under the table the TV sits on. The Booger likes to bring bugs in when we’re not paying attention, and tear them from limb to limb, leaving many of the pieces in the cat bed. I’ve taken to calling it the Abattoir. Hmmm. The BOOGattoir! But there are no small animals desperately fighting to live, so I lay back down.
The Boogattoir. Yes, I clean the insect pieces out of the bed every few days. I’m just relieved he does it in the cat bed and not the Momma bed.
6:29 – 6:42 am: Rub Miz Poo’s belly while listening to Fred in the shower. (No, he’s not singing)
6:42 – 6:45 am: Chat with Fred, then give him a kiss goodbye and roll over to go back to sleep.
7:25 am: The alarm’s set for 7:30, but distant banging wakes me up, and since I’m already awake, I figure I might as well get up.
7:25 – 7:55 am: Get up, get dressed, put in contacts, take vitamin E and thyroid medication, clean the litter box, toss a load of laundry in the washer, grab a pair of socks, and head downstairs. Toss the bag of cat poop, open the blinds on the back of the house, check email.
7:55 am: Get into Jeep to leave (it’s Monday, thus pet store kitties day, whee!). Wave to the Paint Guy, who waves me down. I get out of the Jeep and he says “Do you need me to move my truck?” I say, “No, I think I have enough room.” “I’ve started painting around one of the windows, and I wanted you to check and make sure it’s okay. The paint isn’t quite the same white, it’s a little more yellow.” I look up to where he’s indicated. “See? I’ve painted across the top and down the side?” I look some more, but I’ll be damned if I can see any difference at all. There are people in existence who give a good goddamn about the 87,308 varying shades of white, but I’m not one of them. “Looks good!” I tell Paint Guy, and leave.
7:55 – 8:10 am: Call Fred from the car (yes, I KNOW, but the traffic was barely moving at all, and I’m an excellent driver, so shaddup) to tell him what Paint Guy said. Fred doesn’t care that the paint is a bit different than what’s already on the house, either. I knew there was a reason I love that man. After a few minutes, hang up and drive. Switch radio stations until I find a song I like. The traffic’s bumper-to-bumper, but moving, so it’s not too bad.
8:10 am: I arrive at the pet store at the same time as one of the managers, which means I don’t have to hunt down a manager to open the door to the cat room for me. I hate hunting down a manager and asking them to open the door, because they’re always busy and I feel like I’m bothering them.
8:11 – 9:15 am: Clean cat cages, feed and pet kitties.
9:15 am: Leave the pet store and stop to get gas.
Yeah, I get the expensive kind.
9:25 am: Stop at the grocery store to buy all the stuff we’ve run out of since Saturday.
9:45 am: Go to McDonald’s to get a Supah-size Diet Coke. For some reason, the fountain Diet Coke tastes better than the Diet Coke I get from the 2-liter bottle or the cans. When I order the Supah-size Diet Coke, I am informed that they no longer offer Supah-size. Bastards! I order the large (I’m going to die of thirst!), and find that though they don’t offer the Supah-size Diet Coke, the price of a large is the exact same as the now-defunct Supah-size. Bastards! I vow to never darken the McD’s drive-thru again, but even as I’m making the vow, I know I’m a big fat liar.
9:57 am: Arrive home to find Paint Guy cleaning his brushes. He tells me he’s going to leave for the day, because it’s been misting out and the paint isn’t drying very quickly at all, and now gnats have swarmed the part of the trim he did paint, and he’s sure we don’t want bugs in our trim. He points out the part he painted, but I’ll still be damned if I can see the slightest bit of color difference from how it was before.
After waving goodbye to him, I pick tomatoes off our tomato plants, which aren’t looking very happy.
Yes, they need to be tied up.
Our little lemon tree is looking just as happy as it could be, though.
The butterfly bush is in serious need of pruning.
It smells SO good.
10:15 am: After putting the groceries away and taking a big slug of my ice-cold Diet Coke (mmmm….) I pour a small bowl of Cheerios, dump half a cup or so of blueberries on top, add Splenda and skim milk, and eat breakfast in front of the computer while checking email and catching up on my journal reading.
10:35 am: I decide I can’t put it off any longer, so I put my dishes in the sink and head upstairs to do some cleaning. I toss the laundry in the washer into the dryer, and start a load of towels, then I get out all the cleaning supplies and go into the bathroom, where I spend the next hour cleaning the bathtub, shower, toilet, and sink area. The cats take turn inspecting my work.
“Hmmm, yes. Perhaps a little more scrubbing of the sink is in order.”
“This FLOOR is atrocious!”
“Ah yes, clean enough to drink out of. Well done!”
This picture, hanging on my bathroom wall, happens to be Jane
‘s favorite saying EVER.
When I’m done cleaning the bathroom, I move the tray holding the water and cat food dishes out into the bedroom so I can vacuum in the bathroom. The cats, fascinated by the location change of their food, take turns checking to see if the food tastes the same in the bedroom as it does in the bathroom.
Apparently it’s nothing to write home about.
I empty the trashcan that goes in the bathroom, and leave it on the bed for a moment. And a moment is all the Booger needs to knock it over and claim it for his very own Stump Cave.
Done cleaning and vacuuming the bathroom, I dust my bedroom, Fred’s bedroom, and the few pieces of furniture in the hallway. The Booger keeps a wary eye on the vacuum cleaner.
When I grab the vacuum, he high-tails it downstairs and stays there while I vacuum the entire upstairs. The other cats join him.
With the cleaning done, it’s time to take a shower. I turn on the shower and step inside.
My hair is dry – at least the front part is – and I settle into the chair in the corner of the bedroom to read for a little while. Meester Boogers decides to keep me company.
Uh, no. He actually isn’t sitting on my head. I probably wouldn’t look quite so cheery if he was.
I finish the book I started yesterday (Killer Smile, by Lisa Scottoline. I love her!), get dressed, and start to head downstairs. Then I remember that I have laundry to fold, and I reverse directions. I toss the clean clothes on the bed, put the towels from the washer to the dryer, and put another load of clothes into the washer. The Booger inspects my work. That, or snoozes. It’s hard to tell the difference.
I sit down in front of the computer and start working on an entry.
In between reading Nance
‘s entry and checking Jane
‘s guestbook (no fighting going on today, damnit!) and checking Mo
‘s blog, I write an entry.
Post the entry and go make lunch.
Lunch is a huge-ass salad consisting of half a bag of Spring Mix salad, several cherry tomatoes, half a cucumber, a couple of sliced radishes, and half a baked boneless, skinless chicken breast half, cubed. Drizzled on top is 2 T. of Kraft Light Done Right 3-Cheese Ranch dressing. Aside from the salad is a container of white chocolate and raspberry yogurt, and a cup of Diet Coke. Yum!
2:35 – 3:00 pm:
Catch up on journal and blog reading, check email, do random surfing, give Miz Poo belly rubs.
3:00 – 3:25 pm:
Slice 1 pound of steak into small pieces so I don’t have to do it later when it’s time to make dinner. Also, chop up two scallions.
Stick cut-up steak and scallions in separate bowls, and then put them in the refrigerator. Clean the top of the stove and wipe down the counters while listening to Dr. Phil’s show.
Fred arrives home. Follow him upstairs to lay down and talk about our respective days.
Fold some laundry, then go downstairs and ask the spud about HER day (she made blueberry muffins in Home Ec. (or whatever the fuck they’re calling it) and they sucked).
3:45 – 4:00 pm:
Sit in front of the computer and surf.
Put a pot of rice on to cook. Peel carrots, chop them up, and put them in a pot of water. Add a chopped-up onion. Put the pot on the stove, then go back to the computer for more surfing.
4:10 – 4:35 pm:
Sit in front of the computer and surf.
4:35 – 5:00 pm:
5:00 – 5:20 pm:
Consume dinner, while chatting with Fred and the spud.
Dinner is General Tsao’s Chicken
– substituting steak for chicken – on rice, and carrots and onions. It is MIGHTY fucking fine.
5:20 – 5:30 pm:
Lay down and chat about various and sundry (though not Sundry
) things with Fred.
Fold towels and put them away. Hang bras up to dry in the closet.
5:40 – 7:00 pm:
Sit in front of the computer, put up Pet Store Kitties
entry, make Fred look at picture of the Booger, talk to the Booger, snuggle with Miz Poo, watch Spanky watching the birds out the window, check mail, read Jane
‘s entry, catch up on more journal reading, update my weight-lifting schedule for this week (I change up my routine every two weeks to keep things FRESH and EXCITING), look at TVGuide
to see what’s coming on this week, and make notes (shut UP), watch the hummingbirds out the front window, surf, waste time, be a slacker.
7:00 – 7:18 pm:
Fred’s in the middle of something on his computer, so I turn the TV in the living room on, then pause The Complex: Malibu
so we won’t miss a single magical moment of it. I go through the list of shows we want to watch this week, and set the DVR to tape the ones we want to tape. Why does everything good come on on Tuesday night, and nothing good at ALL comes on on Thursday or Friday?
7:18 – 7:22 pm:
I nag Fred until he decides he’s done with what he was doing, and he goes to make his evening snack.
7:22 – 7:30 pm:
Check email and do some mindless surfing while Fred makes his snack.
7:30 – 9:00 pm:
Make my evening snack (a small bowl of bran flakes and raisins with Splenda and skim milk) and settle in with Fred to watch The Complex, which we enjoy, because except for the gay guys, everyone’s annoying as hell. Annoying in an entertaining way, that is.
9:00 – 9:05 pm:
Check my email one last time, and check out Nance and Jane’s answers to the current Smart & Sassy
Fred comes back downstairs (he always goes upstairs a few minutes before me) and asks if I’ve seen the Booger. I haven’t seen him in an hour or so, and he’s ALWAYS inside at bedtime (how else would he get his tasty Kitten Chow treats?). Fred’s checked everywhere in the house for him, and he’s nowhere to be seen. We head out into the backyard and call for him, Fred shaking the Kitten Chow box. No Booger. Fred goes one way and I go the other. Fred finds that one of the gates is standing open, and we both freak out a little bit. We go into the front yard and I call for Meester Boogers, while Fred shakes the Kitten Chow box. We’re just starting to wonder whether we need to fan out into the neighborhood (can two people fan?), when the Booger comes running at high speed from the next-door neighbor’s yard. He hides under the Jeep until he realizes he’s not in trouble, and then he comes out and rubs on Fred’s legs. Fred picks him up, and we go inside.
9:20 – 9:40 pm:
I get ready for bed – take out my contacts, take a vitamin E pill and my birth control pill, wash my face, brush my teeth, and put on my nightgown. I settle down in bed next to Fred to read, when we hear the sounds of Meester Boogers outside, howling. We both go downstairs and open the back door to see him flopped over on his side, enjoying the night. Apparently he just wanted to howl for no reason at all. We bring him inside and go back upstairs.
Two minutes later, he starts howling from outside again. I wonder aloud whether he’s wishing he’d had a longer adventure, and then point out that it would suck if he figured out how to jump the fence the way Mr. Fancypants did. Fred admits that he would be bereft and incosolable if that were to happen, because he and Meester Boogers are soulmates. I suggest bringing the Booger inside and shutting the cat door for the night, and doing that every night from now on, like we used to. Fred asks if I’d mind going down to get the Booger and shutting the cat door. I don’t mind, so I go do it.
Naturally the moment I step outside to get the Booger, Miz Poo shoots outside and won’t come back in with me. I carry the Booger inside, set him down, shut the cat door, then go back out to get Miz Poo. After a little chasing, I catch her, and she chirrups worriedly until I set her down and shut the door.
I get about two minutes to read and then it’s time to turn the lights off.
9:40 – 10:03 pm:
Fred and I lay in bed, snuggle, and talk.
10:03 – 11:17 pm:
Fred goes to bed, and I settle in to read for a while. I’ve only read half a page when the phone rings. It’s my friend Liz, so I answer. We talk for about half an hour about a bunch of different things – she might come visit in November – and then we hang up. I read about ten pages in my book before I decide it’s time to go to sleep. I make one last trip to the bathroom, stopping on the way back to bed to pet the Booger, Spanky, and Spot, and then settle in for the night.