The fog outside is the consistency of pea soup and I am grateful to be inside right now, even if it means that sitting in my computer chair also requires me to not be able to lean back, because Everest has snuggled into the seat for the night.
I would also give any computer teacher a heart attack, because I am not maintaining proper posture. My feet are not flat on the floor because of two pups who are snoozing comfortably wedged somehow between the chair’s rollers. My head isn’t even facing the screen, I am sitting sideways with the keyboard in my lap as Charlie is napping on the deskspace where the keyboard normally rests.
It reminds me of a creative college course in writing where the instructor set us up in front of a darkened screen and she told us to just start writing our thoughts without looking at them first. It was an interesting assignment and showed a lot of creativity just under the surface that finally broke through during the second hour of the assignment.
So I am essentially typing blind, with an erect back (otherwise I would smash Everest) “Why not just move the cat?” Someone may ask- I would counter- “Why move him just because I am uncomfortable?”
I have been absent from this blog for several days. Some may speculate after my last whining post that I was off feeling sorry for myself, but if I was feeling sorry for myself it had nothing to do with a lost friend, but more with a tooth extraction that went horribly wrong.
I am still in pain though the darvocet takes the edge off at least for now. With my extensive medical history (5 major surgeries in four years) my body doesn’t respond quite the same with pain medication as other people. It takes a lot to knock this type of pain out for me.
The extraction was Weds and I am hoping by Tues I will be fit enough to venture out into public and go to work. I have a lovely bruise that looks like Mike just socked me right across my cheek, and my lip droops like a Saint Bernard’s lip droops after he slurps water. The drool also rivals any a Saint Bernard can produce and is quite embarassing.
My dentist is “upwardly mobile.” He doesn’t just go in and pull a tooth, instead he has to push the darn thing out (less trauma to the gums) so he says- although I wept the entire ride home from the pain, enough so Mike was ready to go back and beat the guy up for not giving me any anesthesia. Not true about no anesthesia, but Mike spent the time out in the parking lot with the dogs in the truck and he didn’t understand my new speech pattern…
“Noth dear, heth gav me somethingth for pan” however, to his credit, Mike is also 80% deaf in the ear directed at me when he drives his truck and I am the passenger.
My speech impediment is gone now, but my lip still curls downward when I smile. I look like a demented Doctor Demento! I know that soon the pain will also leave, I just wish it would depart immediately instead of hanging around reminding me that I am indeed mortal!
Monday, we welcome another resident into the house. He will be my first cat hotel resident. His name is Wilson and he is a Mackeral Tabby who can’t find a forever home and is currently in limbo waiting for a someone to love him.
He is a former feral rescued from a colony in Bend Oregon and even microchipped! But all efforts to notify his owner have been in vain, and he has somehow ended up in Washington State. I was emailed his story, and I told them I would take him- his photo is displayed.
He will be in the bedroom with Fiona and I hope the two of them get along. Time will tell I guess. He is a handsome boy-
I posted on a forum I frequently visit about my desire to open a retirement home for cats. I asked the members to help me come up with a name, and one special lady sure did that! I will keep the name under wraps until I achieve my non-profit status then I will tell you. But the name encompasses everything I am trying to create for cats that people no longer want because their “cuteness factor” has faded and they are growing old. Here, they will grow old with us and know love and comfort until they draw their final breath.