I have been gearing up for a post in which I said something like, "Sorry guys. I seem to be incapable of blogging. This is the end (of the blog). Good bye."
This might have something to do with the fact that I have two part-time jobs, one which is so new I don't know anything even though some people expect me to, and one which is so old I am close to being able to say I hate it; I have a family of six living with me in my (parents') house; I just had a very well-turned-out booksigning; I am going in for surgery in a week and a half; and I'm still trying to maintain a good but challenging friendship with the Milk Guy.
Most of these things are stressors of my own choosing, but not all of them, and in any case, I'm quite sure I would not have chosen the timing. (I would have spaced them out considerably.) The combined effect is a sort of verbal constipation, which I realise is a repulsive analogy, but it really is kind of how my brain feels right now.
And then the cat showed up.
I should probably explain why there's a Family-of-Six living in my house first, but I'm not going to. Suffice it to say that this Family went away last weekend and returned on Wednesday night. When I left for work the following morning, I heard an inexplicable, high-pitched mewing near the garage--but I couldn't see anything, so I got in my car and left for work.
When I returned home, a long stressful shift and a professional massage later, Heather-of-Six said, "I have to show you something."In the downstairs bathroom, asleep in a box, was an eight-week-old kitten. Said Kitten-of-Seven (evidently) had climbed into the engine of their car while they had been visiting its owners, ridden back in the engine from New Hampshire for two hours, and been discovered freaking out in my driveway by the children in the middle of the afternoon.
I have never had a cat. My mother and grandmother both really dislike cats, and I have little time or patience to want to train one. I don't want cat-hair all over my things, and I don't want it scratching the furniture and draperies, and I don't know that I can afford to keep one. So we are trying to see if anyone down here will take it. But I have this feeling no one will. I kind of think I'm supposed to have it. If this is the case, it will no doubt be a blessing and I will be oh so happy she's here. But in the meantime: Sigh.
Did I mention change stresses me out?
She is really beautiful, though . . .
Photo by jennw2ns: Surprise 2008.