While I was catching up on some stuff tonight, I realized I hadn’t packed. This isn’t a big trip – just three hours by car. I have to put some food and water out for the cat, put clothes in my little suitcase thing, and pack up the computer. Also, I’m bringing the dog, so a few of her things.
Usually I do this the night before, as is the sensible thing to do. That way I can get up and not have to race around before I leave for work.
Tonight I made a conscious desicion to not pack. Sometimes it’s just more fun not to do what’s smart.
Remember in college when you waited until the day before the exam to study? Or staying up all night on Dexedrine writing the term paper? And then would you vow to never do that again?
Well, the good news is that most of us are out of college. College was great, don’t get me wrong. Never had I so much time to screw around. But we don’t get to do a lot of those things anymore. I mean, I guess we can put off our taxes until mid April, but that’s about it.
So, I was about to pack tonight. And then, the rebellious twenty year old me said…
Not tonight! You’re going to race around last minute in the morning and do all this. It will be awesome. Do it!
I think I have to engage my immature part every so often just to keep sane. I remember my Mother gave me a card once that simply said on the inside, “Don’t EVER grow up.” She didn’t mean to be a loser man-child not capable of being responsible and living in the real world. I was a silly child. She meant don’t give up the silly.
While silly isn’t always a great idea, practically speaking, it’s usually fun.
For example – this blog. Could this blog hurt my ability in the corporate world? Sure it could. This website is silly and honest and extremely non-corporate. Not sure some employers would want a guy who writes about stuff like this on their roster. I’ve accepted the reality of that.
The downside is that should I ever look for a new job, this may be an issue. The upside is that I have a level of fulfillment that is very important to my well-being. It’s interesting that being more myself (note – honest, silly, emotional, reflexive) results in this fulfillment.
So, tomorrow I’ll race around last minute to get packed, probably cursing this decision. Oh, and speaking of, I need to get a card before Sunday, when all that’s left are the Hallmark ones written in Spanish. DÃa de las Madres!
When I’m gone I usually take my dog to the groomer who watches her throughout the day and takes her home to his place. She even sleeps in bed with him.
That leaves my cat.
My cat is dumb. I know that everyone says either their pets are smart or dumb, but mine really is dumb.
Example: When I brought my cat, Pantaloons, home the first time from the shelter, she ran right over your the dog and started rubbing against her, purring. Now, while incredibly cute, this is the mark of a dumb cat. Cats are supposed to be naturally afraid of dogs. But since my dog is harmless, no big deal.
This is one of the positives of being dumb.
Here’s one of the negatives. She loves peeing on my bed when I’m away.
EVER heard that cats will not sleep in an area where they pee? “Not true!” my cat says. She loves to pee in my bed and then sleep there later.
And sometimes I don’t catch it until after I’ve gotten into bed and noticed the smell. I so wish it wasn’t cruel to backhand a cat.
I think she’s either upset at me being gone and this is a “Screw you, old man!” or she forgets where to pee.
Note: I am not actually an old man, but I didn’t write the expression
The other possibility is that she has terrible anxiety about me being gone and pees outside the box as some sort of dumb-cat coping strategy. At least this is what I’m hoping because it’s treatable.
So now each night, before bed, Pantaloons gets 1mg of Prozac funneled into her gullet. She hates this, mind you. It’s not like they make goldfish and yarn flavored anti-depressants.
But I can’t keep having her peeing on my bed. And giving her away is not the solution. I mean, I’d have to lie to the agency.
Why am I giving the cat back? Um, would you believe that I suddenly developed a phobia of tigers? And you know, they’re like mini-tigers.
No, okay – how about that I’m into really kinky stuff, and I didn’t want her to see me suspended by the ceiling fan by with alligator clamps on my nips. That is not for kitty’s eyes.
Okay, last try. She ate all my mice that live in my apartment, and, hey, I really dig mice.
The Prozac takes about twenty days to take hold.
If this doesn’t work I shall throw myself off the balcony in frustration. It’s a super dramatic way to die, and I’m that kind of guy.
Plus, now I wrote it, so I need to keep the promise. My therapist is always talking to me about accountability.
