1. One of the problems with being an early riser is that you tend to eat breakfast at an obscenely early hour. So by 9:30 in the morning you're hungry and want to gnaw on your own arm. Today I brought a yogurt as a midmorning snack because yesterday I ate my lunch at 10 a.m. I think maybe later today I'll have a blue plate special and yell at some kids to get off my lawn.
2. Which remids me ... the other day I couldn't remember my own zipcode. You know how you'll be getting gas at the filling station and you can pay with your ATM/visa card? As an added security level, these machines now ask you to enter your zipcode. I completely drew a blank.
I don't know if this is a sign of early onset Alzheimer's or just my general weirdness as a person. I am chalking it up to basic flakiness but still kind of worried my brain might be going south already. I now repeat my own zipcode over and over in my head sometimes. Probably I need medication.
3. Speaking of remembering things. Now I remember why I don't take the 6:45 a.m. bus. For one thing it gets me into work a little late (now that is sad, really) and for another thing, there is a man on that bus who smells like vinegar. He has an unusual and very, VERY strong foul vinegar-body-odor smell. It's not just me who's noticed it, either, I've heard other people remark about the smell after he exits the bus. People sometimes move to another seat if he sits close to them. But I have a tragically overdeveloped sense of smell (to make up for my poor eyesight, perhaps?) and some odors make me feel nauseated or give me a headache. This guy's B.O. actually makes my eyes water, and it's a scent that lingers in the bus even after he's long gone.
Anyway, this morning I saw him in line at the park 'n ride and I drove into work instead. I get mad at him for making the bus ride so unpleasant, but then I feel bad for thinking it, and I spend the rest of the morning mentally debating whether or not I suck as a person or if this guy is just being rude by not bathing. Or maybe it's not his fault that he smells like a rotten pickle in a gym sock. Or maybe he does it on purpose. And WHAT ON EARTH IS HE DOING that makes him smell like vinegar??? And didn't my mama raise me better than to be so judgy? etc.
It's exhausting.
So it's better not to take the 6:45 bus.
4. This weekend I am cleaning and decluttering my home "office." I don't use air quotes lightly, but that room is about as much of an office as I am an airplane. I hate the thought of decluttering that room and also secretly look forward to it. I want that room to look nice and have less junk in it, but I also fear letting go of my collected years of post-it notes and office supplies. Someone recently asked me if I got a holiday bonus at my company. "If by 'holiday bonus' you mean 'lots of post-its and pens from the supply cabinet' then yes. Yes I was very well-rewarded this holiday season."
5. Hypergraphia. The problem with being prolific is that it's not necessarily synonymous with good (see: the ability to write a 3,000 word essay about vinegar-bus-stop guy) (I edited, a little). Also, who wants to end up locked in the house for twenty-seven years and possibly murdered?
6. Lately a lot of people (read: you all) seem to be saying that my cats are giant (read: fat). Until a few kind readers mentioned that my cats are very healthy and robust, I had not quite noticed it. Except for Bob, who is obviously big boned. Sometimes he jumps on the bed in the middle of the night and I wake up thinking we're having an earthquake. Anyway, last night I decided I should weigh all the cats. At first I tried getting them to stand on the scale by putting some greenies on it. But Bob just stood on the floor beside the scale and ate the greenies and then looked at me like, "Why are you making us eat off this weird plate in the bathroom?"
So I picked up Sobakowa and held her while I stepped on the scale and I wrote down that number, we will call it Number A. It was a scary and bad number. Then I was about to get on the scale alone when I really thought about what I was doing here. Sure, I could go ahead and weigh myself alone with no cat to get Number B and then subtract that amount from Number A, thereby finally learning both my weight and the cat's weight.
OR I could just assume I have a 65 pound cat and I myself am quite trim and healthy. One guess which direction the evening took.
I had a glass of wine and it was the end of weighing all around. Ya'll are right, though, my cats are huge ... at least 65 pounds, I'm guessing.
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