Yesterday morning I did not indulge in my Grandma Power Shower and Out the Door in Single Digit Minutes routine. No, I allowed myself 20 whole minutes and then wound up waiting in the driveway for about three. Such is life.
I’m up early this morning because I woke up in a truly “awake” state and since it was not in the middle of the night, I decided to get some aspirin for aches and a Diet Sam’s for carbonation, which I am convinced is a necessary fuel for my life force.
Mother’s cat, Tiffy, and depending on whom you ask is now Alison’s or Summer’s annoying furball has a vet appointment this morning for a bad tooth that the doctor says is very painful. Mother, are you paying attention here? I am taking care of your cat. Why you became attached to cats in the last decade of your life, I don’t know, but you did and she’s here and I’m doing my best. That means I see that she has a caretaker and I don’t encourage her to live a life of adventure, starting with playing in traffic. On the whole, we keep our distance and avoid eye-contact. I call her “That cat.”
I expect something will happen to me today. The one time I decided to do something a non-Mother way, a walnut fell on my head. Well, it wasn’t just the one time I did something in a different way . . . no need to stir the pot, however.
My entire family refers to my cat as “that cat.” The fact that she take swipes at anyone who walks within two feet of her keeps everyone on their toes. The grandkids are terrified of her. But she likes me. Not that she lets me touch her unless she wants to be touched of course. I believe the title “that cat” comes with attitude.