« A Friday Five grown out of control! | Main | Mind that Freudian slip, it's a doozy. »
August 28, 2002
Playing catch-up
Hey. Hi! I'm still here, really. I've been meaning to update, but got sidetracked with traveling and illness and such, and then had too many things to update about, and what with the laziness...
Patrick moved earlier this month, alas... though I teased him that I may actually see him on occasion now, since he isn't living here anymore. (It's true, really. I saw him more before I moved in here. He's like the Amazing Invisible Patrick.) His move seemed to stir up some dormant germy evil, though, because we both promptly got sick. I had the raging flu just in time for my new roommate to move in -- he arrived, with his family in tow, to find me sniffling and coughing and feverish. I'm sure I charmed his family by leaping away from them when they tried to shake my hand, wailing "Don't touch me! Germs! Unclean, unclean!" Well, okay, I didn't quite do that, but I did refuse to touch anyone, because the last thing I wanted to do was share the sickness. The upside was of it was his mother refusing to let me help them move stuff in -- she ordered me to lie on the couch and tell them where to put things. Heh. The new roommate is very nice -- he brought good furniture, and seems the handy sort - he's all full of plans to plant flowers, paint, fix light fixtures, etc. I told him to do whatever he wants, and I'll stay out of the way. He's very laid-back, friendly yet seems to like to keep to himself, considerate as all get-out... it's working out well so far. Plus, he likes Buffy and Angel, and happily watches Beat the Geeks with me, so that's all good. We are currently dealing with Cat Drama, however -- he brought his very cute, very fat cat Cleo, and Smoke is being a pissy drama queen. They haven't fought yet -- I think they need to have a good knock-down drag-out, because Cleo is very shy and timid, and Smoke is being territorial, and seems to really enjoy torturing her new feline roommate. Poor Cleo won't come out of J.'s room, because Smoke likes to lie right outside the door -- Cleo creeps out, Smoke hisses, and Cleo runs back in and hides. It's okay, but Cleo's food, water, and litterbox are on the first floor, and I worry she'll get sick. She has ventured downstairs -- last night I shut Smoke up in my room and let Cleo come down to eat and such. She stayed downstairs for a while, sniffing stuff, getting some scritches from me, and checking out all the windowsills. I let Smoke come down after a while, and they had a glaring contest -- Cleo in the living room, Smoke in the dining room, both with the big scary tails and the growling and muttered threats. Cleo eventually crept back upstairs, and Smoke preened, basking in the knowledge that she's top cat. I wish Cleo spoke English -- I'd tell her to slap that smug look right off Smoke's face. Sigh. But, no bloodshed is a good thing, I guess. If anyone has any cat-integration tips (beyond ignoring them and letting them work out their differences) please do let me know.
J. had to deal with the cat drama alone over the weekend, as I went to Vermont to visit my mom. It was a hassle getting there -- I missed the damn bus, for the first time in the 10+ years I've been riding it. The ticket agent (who barely even looked at me when she sold me the ticket, and was bloody rude to boot) told me the bus left from Gate 10, and even wrote it on the ticket. I was mad early, so I bought some snacks for the ride and settled on a bench at Gate 10 to read for an hour or so. At 4 p.m., I started wondering where the bus was -- it was supposed to e leaving at 4, and they usually board 15 minutes beforehand. No bus. At about 5 past, a bus pulled in, and several burly cops hurried up to wrestle a very drunk man off. I assumed that, because of the drunk guy, the bus was just late, so I waited. At 20 past, I asked the driver of another Vermont bus where the 4 o'clock might be, and he gave me an odd look and said "It left, 20 minutes ago." I protested that I'd been waiting at the gate since 3 o'clock, and he said "That's your problem. It left from Gate 13." I showed him my ticket, and he told me to get on his bus, and that he'd have the bus I was supposed to be on wait for me in Nashua, NH. Argh. So, we were late getting into Vermont. Luckily, there weren't many people on that bus, and the few passengers were sympathetic. I gave myself a good case of the creeps, and some odd dreams, dozing and listening to the CD of Coraline (it was soothing, like having Neil Gaiman reading me a bedtime story. But the story itself is deliciously creepy). We got to Vermont about 45 minutes late (which isn't that unusual, really) and Mom took me home and fed me. Friday, we ate sushi (very good, and mostly vegetarian, as Mom won't go near any form of raw fish). I discovered that edamame is a lovely thing, and resolved to find someplace that sells soybeans and make it myself. We shopped a bit, then went home to work on a jigsaw puzzle and talk. Saturday, we drove to Connecticut to visit my brother and his girlfriend -- it was a very nice drive, though long -- 4 hours. I hadn't seen Mike and Mariann's place, and they were happy to show it off. It's tiny, and filled with cats -- they have 4, and all of them spent some time sitting on my lap, and shedding on me. Aw. We had lunch, wandered around their pretty little town for a bit, then headed for home, stopping in neat little towns along the way. I found two Elvis Costello CDs I was lacking in a used record shop (King of America, which made me happy as its out of print, and Trust) and we saw a bit of wildlife along the road -- a little brown rabbit eating grass at the side of the road (I hope it stayed there, and didn't turn into Roadkill Rabbit) and a turkey vulture perched on a rock. Sunday we shopped more -- we hit the Ames going-out-of-business sale, and I found a new chair for my computer desk. I had been using an old kitchen chair of my brother's and it was horrible uncomfortable. I was also falling apart, and the legs would shift alarmingly when I sat down. I was worried that one day soon I would break the damn thing. This chair is a studio chair -- a steel frame with a canvas seat and back. It was cheap, easy to put together, and it comfy, although the extended typing is making my back hurt. It's also low-slung, so reaching the keyboard is a tad awkward. But it looks nice, and doubles as an extra living room chair, so I'm not complaining. I also got more shelves for the kitchen (on sale for $12, woo). Sunday night we went to see Road to Perdition, which was excellent. I knew exactly what was going to happen from the first line of dialogue, but I didn't mind -- it was a good enough movie that I didn't care that it was predictable. Also, I didn't jump at the scene at the end that's supposed to be startling, because I knew just what was going to happen. Didn't stop me from sniffling at the ending, though... Monday, Mom and I drove back to Boston. she spent the night here, and headed home Sunday. She called when she got home, to tell me she'd had an interesting phone call... her sister, who hasn't spoken to her in about 15 years, called to tell her that her aunt, my great-aunt Clara, had died, and left my mom a small sum in her will. I don't remember aunt Clara, though I wish I did. She was my mom's last living relative, aside from her two estranged sisters. (That's a long story. Suffice it to say, wills tend to bring out the worst in people, and her sisters are horrible, beastly people.) I had thought that maybe my mom's sister calling was a good sign -- she's the executor of the will, so she had to contact her... but she really didn't have to call herself. I thought that until I saw the online obituary for my great-aunt. They listed her surviving relatives... and left my mom's name out, not to mention me and my brother. How shitty is that? How horrible, and petty, and wrong. I really would like to find these women and slap them so hard my hand bruises. My mom says she's fine with it, but I'm so angry. It's weird enough knowing that I have aunts and uncles and cousins who are total strangers to me. It's sad that my mom doesn't have a relationship with her sisters. But my God, what a slap in the face. And for what? Grrr. At least we have a good relationship with my dad's parents and brother -- they've been better family than these two sorry excuses for women could ever be. And as long as my mom's okay, that's all that matters, I guess. I told her that her sisters have only hurt themselves by refusing to have a relationship with her, and it's true -- she's a wonderful person, and they don't know how much they've missed out on by cutting her off.
Anyway. I ought to go to bed, now that I'm done ranting. G'night!
Posted by Mary Ellen at August 28, 2002 10:29 AM