Mr. Snug

(Why yes, now that you've asked, my last post does read rather harsh and callous now. But hindsight is always 20/20.)

It turns out that poor Mr. Snug was not ill from drinking toilet water. We don't know what really was wrong. But whatever it was, it was so wrong that he did not come home with me from the vet's this morning. Monday he was strange, yesterday he was downright ill. He was a suffering, dying cat this morning when I took him in. His body temperature was so low that the thermometer wouldn't give a reading--given the option to spend much time and money running tests, I chose to agree with nature that, in fact, Snug was all done being a kitty. Not a difficult decision, which surprised me. I just decided, and was at peace. Still, it's not nice to come home and realize he's not going to be sleeping in the tub any more, or eating my plants, or making water spots on the couch from licking it.

I miss my buddy.

Shocked

I had no idea that two days could make me so tired. Just two days! Haven't been this tired since the weekend that I spent in labor.

This won't be a particularly nice post, or a cohesive post, or really anything worth existing at all. But I can't go to bed until the dryer finishes, and there's nothing really interesting happening on the internet right now. Well, ok. That isn't a true statement, probably, but nothing interesting is happening on the bits of internet I keep refreshing. (This perhaps, is something akin to reading just the 1st and 28th pages of David Copperfield and expecting the love scene to just APPEAR on them if you read long enough. But oh well.) SO I'm waiting on the dryer, Joe and V are sleeping.

We had three of the nephew/niece crowd come down for the weekend. It was a blast. We saw the Silent Drill Platoon perform, went out for pizza, Joe took them to fireworks, I stayed up for an hour with one last night while he was "sick" in the bathroom, I stayed up for another two hours waiting for either (a) the first one to decide he was so sick he wanted to be returned to his parents, who are three hours away, or (b) a second one got sick. Neither happened. In fact, he felt so much better that he had two bowls of cereal and a glass of milk for breakfast today. Nothin' wrong with that boy. We also went to Mass, went to the beach, played Scrabble and Cranium, and had pizza again.

Maybe it's the not sleeping between 0230 and 0545 this morning. Maybe it's that Friday night was spent frantically running through a horrible dream in which I lost my baby in a shopping mall. Maybe it's that God designed us to gradually build our families up from one to four. Maybe it's that the week included all of my piano students on schedule for the first time in a month. Maybe it's the weather. Maybe it's the return of last spring's demonic allergy thing where I have a wheezy throat and unstoppable cough. I don't know.

But I've never been so tired in my life.

I take them back to their parental units tomorrow morning. Throwing up notwithstanding, it really was a lot of fun! (Oh, and the cat threw up because he'd been drinking out of the toilet, and I'm like feeding the baby and the rest of everyone is all out there going "Jen! Jen! Aunt Jen! Jennifer!" and so I come out in the hall and all three kids--and Joe--are standing over this teeny little cat barf like it's a dead animal. So I say, "Oh, it's fine. I'll get it. Relax. Move on, citizens!" and most of them do. But my niece is standing halfway in the bedroom doorway, a little in the shadow, like someone should keep vigil with the body or something. Sigh. I'm thinking, Ok. It's a puddle of cat spit that, yes, is a remarkable yellow color but I'm pretty sure I told everyone you needed to be putting the seat down every time, and flushing, and there's also a piece of grass in the puddle. He's a cat. He barfs all the time, and he eats grass like it's his job. Maybe this will teach him to drink from the commode. Go to bed.)

Five more minutes on the dryer.

TwoFootOnion

Interestingly enough, the worst part of New York City was the condition of the roads. Then again, they probably weren't designed for you to be going more that 5-6mph on them. On Sunday mornings when the traffic isn't awake yet, though, one gets up to 35. Then slows abruptly because the roads are so bad. Oh well.

I left with a little milk-drinking baby, and came home with one that wants to eat everything he can get his hands on. The grandmas are telling me "don't add too many new foods at once!" Perhaps I did, but then he developed such a strong preference for sweet potato, that I kinda laid off everything else. So hopefully there's no irreperable damage to my small childing. This makes his nutritive development simultaneously more and less simple. On the plus side, others can feed him. On the negative side, he can (and does) decide not to eat. I'm also discovering the monster I've created in letting him nurse to sleep. Oops. Oh well. It makes me happy, and the first one's always a trial run anyhow, right?

Also, when I went back to the commissary yesterday to retrieve the bag that the bagger had failed to put in my cart, I did not realize that the other thing she had left out was the expensive baby juice--a purchase which I felt was ill-advised and silly, but had made anyhow because I thought "just once" wouldn't hurt. This makes me, for some reason, SOOOOOOO ANGRY that I can't stand it. I'm really, really upset. I was less upset over the milk, butter, cream cheese, sausage, and cinnamon rolls. But it was a whole day ago, and I can't really go back now.

Return to the Dark Side

Yes, I got back on Facebook. (1) To check up on babies and marryings. (2) Because my husband kept yelling at me for using his account to stalk people. If I "unfriended" you at my return (which I did to over 200 friends) please don't be hurt. I was trying to take off people that I don't ever, ever, ever talk to you. If you were purged, just refriend me. I won't ignore you. I promise. I probably didn't mean to unfriend you in the firse place. Please forgive me!!!

Ahem.

Happy Easter and such. I've got family visiting this week, then we're off on a Griswold journey to NYC (ugh) and other points north the following week. After I get back, hopefully I'll have a few moments to detail the finer points of liturgical minor-disaster that befell the poor chaplains this weekend. Like I always say, never leave the choir unattended.