I do not know how to slack. Jesus. Procrastinate? THAT I'm really good at, but I tend to do it by getting busy at something else. I've been varying degrees of sick since a week ago Monday. Many of those days all I have had the energy to do is drink a glass of water and go back to bed. I slept 17 hours on Friday, 15 hours on Saturday. I think I've gotten at least an extra 30 hours of sleep this week.
I spent four hours at the doctor's office yesterday for them to shrug their shoulders and say "you're ill". Uhm, yeah, I knew that - thanks. Seems I have pneumonia, so they took X-rays, gave me a breathing treatment, gave me antibiotics, which *have* helped, although I'm still more sick than well.
However, each day there has been a few hours in which the planets aligned, and I had the right combination of food, water, drugs, rest and sunshine so that I actually felt all right. Not great, but okay. During those times, knowing how fleeting they were, I have strived to get things done.
Over the last week, I made it to Costco, to the DS Support Group meeting, introduced my brother to my bf's brother (job opportunity), finally got some pears from Harry & David, and got my software program back online (which involved organizing five people to move a server into a secured area, get it back online & bring the program up - that took DAYS). Sorted mail, organized some filing, finished two books that had been partially read for over a year, and did a PILE of dishes. And I'm annoyed that I don't have the energy to finish the laundry tonight.
This morning I laid on the couch, fully intending to stay there all day, and got up after about fifteen minutes because I was bored. I even logged into email and did some stuff for work.
And then the hands of the clock move like a guillotine, and my energy comes to a dead stop. Plonk! I just want to face plant into a feather pillow and forget the world exists.
My bf is actually going to have Friday night off.....the first in many months, and we're both hoping that we feel well enough to do something besides take a nap together. We laughed at that - what an exciting couple we've become. We're practicing how to be old married people.
There's just too much to do for me to enjoy doing nothing. Everywhere I look there are things to do - I want to live in France. I want to take dance lessons. I want to organize my kitchen. I want to get better at playing the piano. I have unused vouchers for tickets on Continental Airlines. My carpet needs to be vacuumed. The trash needs to go out. I have email to answer, and research to do. I have a presentation on Friday, and have things I *should* have done this week for work - but I didn't have enough neurons firing to do them.
How can I slack when I have French Flash cards, a cat, and a bookcase full of books beckoning me?
I think it's time for another nap.
Showing posts with label cat. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cat. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Sweetness and Light
D'Artagnan is what's called a cream tabby. To some, this means that he's a butterscotch & cream color rather than orange marmalade like the more well-known varieties. To me, it means he looks like Morris who laid out in the sun and got faded.
Cream tabbies, by nature, seem to be extremely mellow and D'Art is no exception. The day I got him, he was just a young buck - a teenager - perhaps 4-5 months old, which puts his birthday some time around the first of April, a fitting birthday for such a mischievously innocent creature. I specifically wanted a cat who *liked* other cats, as I wanted to get him a companion, and he was sharing a cage with a fellow shelter-kitty. Yes, he's adopted, but I haven't broken the news to him yet.
After only 20 minutes or so, I completed the paperwork. I asked if he had a name, and the lady said it was "Dar-TAN-EE-on". Cringing only slightly, I helped her correct the spelling (and pronunciation) of his name. A name made famous by Alexandre Dumas, the fourth Musketeer is often remembered as primarily a lover, not a fighter, and D'Art lives up to his name.
I stopped by work to show off my new-found companion, and he proceeded to stretch out full length on the reception desk and let fifty people rub his belly. Watch out - House Cat on Duty. Well, maybe not at THIS house. We were there for well over an hour, as this steady stream of people came through to OOOooOOo and Aaaahhh over him, petting him, touching him, and he didn't once get spooked.
He once got stuck in a tree, about 20 feet off the ground. Declawed, he didn't have a means of climbing DOWN and he refused to jump. I guess the towel I was holding out didn't look inviting enough Fortunately my ten year old neighbor-boy was currently sitting 30 feet up a tree reading a book, so he was a natural choice to send after my wayward son. He got into a fight with a possum once, and had to have an open gaping wound draining out of his chest for three weeks.
A couple of years ago, I had to leave him (and my other cat) for several weeks alone in the house with nothing but a food/water bowl and a litter box. A Category 4 Hurricane blew through town, knocking out electricity, trees, freeways, bridges, and much much more. For some odd reason, the woman who was watching him decided it was too much trouble to check on them regularly. (Something about a hurricane getting in the way?) With the airport closed, I couldn't fly home. Some cats will get pissy with you when you leave them alone too long - D'Art greeted me the same as always, with love and affection, purring, sitting next to me, and curling up against my legs like nothing unusual had happened. But he seemed a little afraid of letting me leave again.
A year later when I left the country for three weeks (this time intentionally), my roommate was watching over him, and I took each of his toes, and visualized the sun rising and setting on each one. I believe some animals have a higher form of intelligence than we give them credit for, but sometimes you have to speak to them in pictures - I wanted him to know that I would be gone for 21 days, and I felt like this was a way I could communicate that. For the 21st day, I visualized the sunrise/sunset again and kissed his face, pressing my nose again him Eskimo-style. When I returned, tired, weakened, sore, and ever so glad to be home, he hopped up on the bed and pressed his nose against mine in the same way - as if he'd been counting the days until my return.
It's been two years since that day, and he's still just as mellow and affectionate as he ever was.....as long as the sun isn't shining. When the sun is out, and it's 80 degrees, he's more like "Thanks for dinner - can I go out now???". I've seen him for all of about ten minutes in the last four days - ninety percent of which was him running to the food bowl and back again.
-BT
Cream tabbies, by nature, seem to be extremely mellow and D'Art is no exception. The day I got him, he was just a young buck - a teenager - perhaps 4-5 months old, which puts his birthday some time around the first of April, a fitting birthday for such a mischievously innocent creature. I specifically wanted a cat who *liked* other cats, as I wanted to get him a companion, and he was sharing a cage with a fellow shelter-kitty. Yes, he's adopted, but I haven't broken the news to him yet. After only 20 minutes or so, I completed the paperwork. I asked if he had a name, and the lady said it was "Dar-TAN-EE-on". Cringing only slightly, I helped her correct the spelling (and pronunciation) of his name. A name made famous by Alexandre Dumas, the fourth Musketeer is often remembered as primarily a lover, not a fighter, and D'Art lives up to his name.
I stopped by work to show off my new-found companion, and he proceeded to stretch out full length on the reception desk and let fifty people rub his belly. Watch out - House Cat on Duty. Well, maybe not at THIS house. We were there for well over an hour, as this steady stream of people came through to OOOooOOo and Aaaahhh over him, petting him, touching him, and he didn't once get spooked.
He once got stuck in a tree, about 20 feet off the ground. Declawed, he didn't have a means of climbing DOWN and he refused to jump. I guess the towel I was holding out didn't look inviting enough Fortunately my ten year old neighbor-boy was currently sitting 30 feet up a tree reading a book, so he was a natural choice to send after my wayward son. He got into a fight with a possum once, and had to have an open gaping wound draining out of his chest for three weeks.
A couple of years ago, I had to leave him (and my other cat) for several weeks alone in the house with nothing but a food/water bowl and a litter box. A Category 4 Hurricane blew through town, knocking out electricity, trees, freeways, bridges, and much much more. For some odd reason, the woman who was watching him decided it was too much trouble to check on them regularly. (Something about a hurricane getting in the way?) With the airport closed, I couldn't fly home. Some cats will get pissy with you when you leave them alone too long - D'Art greeted me the same as always, with love and affection, purring, sitting next to me, and curling up against my legs like nothing unusual had happened. But he seemed a little afraid of letting me leave again. A year later when I left the country for three weeks (this time intentionally), my roommate was watching over him, and I took each of his toes, and visualized the sun rising and setting on each one. I believe some animals have a higher form of intelligence than we give them credit for, but sometimes you have to speak to them in pictures - I wanted him to know that I would be gone for 21 days, and I felt like this was a way I could communicate that. For the 21st day, I visualized the sunrise/sunset again and kissed his face, pressing my nose again him Eskimo-style. When I returned, tired, weakened, sore, and ever so glad to be home, he hopped up on the bed and pressed his nose against mine in the same way - as if he'd been counting the days until my return.
It's been two years since that day, and he's still just as mellow and affectionate as he ever was.....as long as the sun isn't shining. When the sun is out, and it's 80 degrees, he's more like "Thanks for dinner - can I go out now???". I've seen him for all of about ten minutes in the last four days - ninety percent of which was him running to the food bowl and back again.
-BT
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