As I was sitting on the couch this morning, coffee cup in hand, Gussy brushed past me, nudged my hand and I noticed a smear of blood on my hand.
What? I turned Gussy around and yes, there was the Telltale Smudge.
This confirms it for me. I have got to get the humidifier working. Antibiotics are pointless. Phoebe mews like I'm killing her and then spits out the pill, anyway.
It gets me that this was my first suspicion and it turns out to be the likely culprit.
----------
Tired Becs is Tired
Maybe not so sad, but still exhausted and still not interested in doing much more on my days off than equipping ma maisonette with the essentials of living.
I realized during my time at OmniPharma, I shoved aside everything but work and my few social obligations. And I see where that got me.
Yes, it's true, my velocity is usually something along the lines of Prissy moseying down the street to find Rhett Butler, the hem of her skirt in hand, mumbling "Got to tote de weary load". That's unfortunately where I am most of the time. I don't think going much faster will get me much, but that's just me.
Yeah, I give up on any time away from the house. It would mean cleaning it so the petsitter wouldn't be thoroughly grossed out. I haven't had a good petsitter since MD moved to the Great Frozen north and I'm afraid she was poorly rewarded for her efforts.
MD really was the last person I trusted with my cats.
And seriously, where am I going, anyway? My passport's expired. Paris may as well be the moon.
Etc. Etc. Etc.
Showing posts with label vacation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label vacation. Show all posts
Friday, March 05, 2010
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Everyone's Gone to the Moon
We're closing in on that season. The month when only Becs remains in the world of central Jersey. Where does everyone go? And why can't they just stay there? Or why didn't they take me, too?
When I was a kid, my family never took vacations. (The tradition continues, largely uninterrupted.) All up and down the block, my pals were gone for a week or in some cases, two weeks. My best friend was like some kind of wealthy heiress/princess, because her family stayed in the Holiday Inn. They would go places where they had no relatives. This boggled my mind. (I was 19 before I stayed in a Holiday Inn and I thought it was wonderful. Actually, right now, I would still think it was wonderful.)
Take Me to the Rivah
Where did everyone go? When I lived in Virginia, everybody went to the Rivah. To this day, I'm still not sure which river they went to.
Everyone's family had "a cabin on the rivah" and my pals invited their other pals to go along with them.
I stayed home and rode my bike in the post-Apocalyptic world of August.
It's the End of the World as We Know It
Worst of all were the summers I was in college. I had an apartment in Richmond, near the school I went to. If May started the Silent Season, August was the very height of it. Humidity shimmered up from the concrete and melting asphalt.
The Richmond ladies stayed in their little apartments, leaning against doilies, fanning themselves so their organdy dresses ruffled in the damp breeze and if you saw any of them on the sidewalk, they looked like someone had mistaken them for ironing.
I rode my bike up and down the street of the Fan District. Everyone was gone. Everyone but me and the Richmond ladies whose nephews didn't invite them to the Rivah.
The worst days felt like I saw them through a thick, sickly yellow cellophane, dead and flat, and it felt like they would never end.
But eventually, people would start trickling back. They would tell wond'rous stories of their adventures and I felt so clueless.
Why didn't I go on adventures myself? What was I missing?
Plus ca change...
We're back in the season where everyone's going away. Everyone but #*%*$* Fred and me.
I haven't saved up for a vacation, but I can feel myself starting to gnaw at my own vitals. I'm going to have to go somewhere, somehow, soon.
All too soon, everyone will come rushing back from vacation, clogging up the roads again, energized, bright-eyed as a coked-out 19 year old, not understanding why I bear more than a passing resemblance to Bertha Mason Rochester.
Because I was here while you all went to the moon. I kept the earth in its place, me and the Richmond ladies and the weight of it has driven us all a little mad. Welcome back.
When I was a kid, my family never took vacations. (The tradition continues, largely uninterrupted.) All up and down the block, my pals were gone for a week or in some cases, two weeks. My best friend was like some kind of wealthy heiress/princess, because her family stayed in the Holiday Inn. They would go places where they had no relatives. This boggled my mind. (I was 19 before I stayed in a Holiday Inn and I thought it was wonderful. Actually, right now, I would still think it was wonderful.)
Take Me to the Rivah
Where did everyone go? When I lived in Virginia, everybody went to the Rivah. To this day, I'm still not sure which river they went to.
Everyone's family had "a cabin on the rivah" and my pals invited their other pals to go along with them.
I stayed home and rode my bike in the post-Apocalyptic world of August.
It's the End of the World as We Know It
Worst of all were the summers I was in college. I had an apartment in Richmond, near the school I went to. If May started the Silent Season, August was the very height of it. Humidity shimmered up from the concrete and melting asphalt.
The Richmond ladies stayed in their little apartments, leaning against doilies, fanning themselves so their organdy dresses ruffled in the damp breeze and if you saw any of them on the sidewalk, they looked like someone had mistaken them for ironing.
I rode my bike up and down the street of the Fan District. Everyone was gone. Everyone but me and the Richmond ladies whose nephews didn't invite them to the Rivah.
The worst days felt like I saw them through a thick, sickly yellow cellophane, dead and flat, and it felt like they would never end.
But eventually, people would start trickling back. They would tell wond'rous stories of their adventures and I felt so clueless.
Why didn't I go on adventures myself? What was I missing?
Plus ca change...
We're back in the season where everyone's going away. Everyone but #*%*$* Fred and me.
I haven't saved up for a vacation, but I can feel myself starting to gnaw at my own vitals. I'm going to have to go somewhere, somehow, soon.
All too soon, everyone will come rushing back from vacation, clogging up the roads again, energized, bright-eyed as a coked-out 19 year old, not understanding why I bear more than a passing resemblance to Bertha Mason Rochester.
Because I was here while you all went to the moon. I kept the earth in its place, me and the Richmond ladies and the weight of it has driven us all a little mad. Welcome back.
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