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The Bang Bang Theories

How We Do It

I worked really hard on my Vitamin D today, Reader.

It was hard work, because we had intermittent rain showers and I had to plan my pool time carefully and effectively to strategically maximize the sun.

All my corporate experience really came into good use today.

I have also been hyper-focused on HYDRATION, Reader, because it’s important to get your insides as wet as your outsides. I think that’s how the saying goes. If that’s not a saying maybe I need to embroider it on a pillow so it feels like an official statement.

So I worked on wetting my insides and outsides today.

A co-worker gave me a tip about drinking coconut water for a good dose  of potassium and really good interior wetting, so I’ve been adding that to my mouth plan and yes, I have an official Mouth Plan, everyone does, Reader it’s absolutely not something I just made up. Other sections of my Mouth Plan today included finding a cake and shoving a slice in there, so I went out and hunted one from the Publix and just enjoyed a little Red Velvet.

Last Monday I had made a proclamation to go sugar-free for 30 days, but then on Friday I thought that’s silly, what if I die on day 25 and completely have missed opportunities for cake based on some rule I imposed on myself, so I had a little Klondike bar yesterday and a slice of cake moments ago because otherwise death might win and no one wants that.

That’s how we fight death over here in Florida, Reader. We eat the cake.

You know what else is super fun about Florida? Well, since you asked, I’ll tell you.

All the street names.

They are just fun and make me happy.

I can drive down Avocado Road, to Pineapple Way, to Palm Leaf Drive.  I work on Hibiscus, which is a section of streets in Edgewater that are named in alphabetical order so there’s Hibiscus and Indigo Palm and Juniper and Kumquat and Lime Tree and Mango…well, you get the idea.

So basically you could give directions to take a left at Mango and head to Pineapple and then merge onto Avocado and there you are.

Of course I don’t live on a fun street name like that, but I do have a fun address. 1000 is my mailing address, which is interesting because back in Cle my mailing address is 6000. So something about the triple zeros pulls me to ’em.  Maybe that’s only interesting to me, but you know the rule, Reader: if it’s in my head, it belongs in yours, too.

You’re welcome for all the things I don’t actually tell you.

It’s time for bed, or else I’d tell you more, but let’s close out on the day and get a good night’s rest so we can GET IT tomorrow.  I bought some new vitamins and I am excited to try one out tomorrow morning. I want to see how much pep they put in my step.  My couzin swears by it, and I always take advice unless it involves something I don’t want to do.

Also, it’s a clear sign you’re not 25 anymore when you’re excited for morning to try out a new vitamin. Oh, the things we look forward to, Reader.  Hope you have some bright spots this week!

 

Reminder to Self. And I May Be A Little Tipsy. Probably. Most Likely.

Okay, I’m going to set the table for us here, right now, before we even get started.

In the spirit of full disclosure, I didn’t even WANT to drink this entire bottle of wine tonight*, but here we are, the last remains in that fingerfucked glass.

*of course I did.

I was compelled to drink that entire bottle because my refrigerator is too small to fit an opened bottle upright on any of the shelves, so I would have had to leave it out on the counter,  and we both know a nice chardonnay should be chilled for freshness** so since I didn’t have a suitable “save it for another night” method, I just drank it. Or am in the process.

**I’m not sure if that’s a rule or not, but it sounds reasonable so I’m sticking to it.

My super personal too-personal-to-post-to-here-sorry-Reader-but-you’ll-have-to-PAY-for-those-thoughts-one-day journal (also noted in the photo) details all the Worries I’ve had recently, with the most recent worries centering around Which Cat I Hostage-Situation To Florida With Me.

It has pages of worries.

I kept trying to assuage those worries by reminding myself of All The Reasons we shouldn’t worry, but the reasons not to worry did no good.

At the end of the trip, I decided to bring Kitty Purry to Florida with me instead of DJ. I had kept vacillating between the two. I love them both, but DJ charms me more*** and he loves me and I love him and it was just a tough call. I love Purry, too, but she also loves Kenny, and hates change. But ultimately I choose her because while she’s sixteen and old and doesn’t like change, she HATES cats and I figured she could use the vacation.

***stop judging me for having a favorite, Reader!  We are a NO JUDGE zone! That starts with DON”T JUDGE ME!

Anyway. She was The Chosen One.   And the morning we were packing up to go, I put her in the airline carrier and off we went at 5:30 a.m. in the godawful-early hours of the morning to the airport.

A minute way from the house I questioned My Mister, “Why do I smell pee?? MY GOD, I forgot to put a pee-pad in the carrier in case she has an accident while we’re travelling!’

I can’t remember a fucking thing at 5:30 in the morning, Reader. It is not my optimized time. Just so you know, in case you’re ever quizzed about me on Jeopardy.

My Mister assured me there was no smell of pee, I was over-reacting.

He’s worse with mornings than I am, just so you know, in case that’s ever a question on Jeopardy.

We arrived at the airport and I moved the carrier to get out of the car and discovered my lap was completely wet.

Remember where I said a few sentences ago that I’m not good at 5:30 a.m.? It crossed my mind that I peed my own pants and just didn’t know it.

Once I came to my senses, I realized that I had ONCE AGAIN**** been peed on by Kitty Purry.

****This is at least the FOURTH time, I’ve lost count. And yet still she lives because I heart her and obviously I need to do a better job of meeting her needs.

Luckily I had a suitcase full of clothes with me.

I presto-change-o’d into a non-peed-on pair of jeans in the minivan. Luckily I had a spacious vehicle to change clothes in while curbside at the airport. Lucky, lucky Me, Reader. All the lucks were happening.

But when I think back to All the Worries I had, and what actually has become our reality – a little pee, but mostly good travel – I realize how SMART those quote-creators are, that we don’t need to have so much worry.

Because while she spent the first few days hiding in a duffel bag deep in my lone closet, she’s also going to be okay.

She’s looking around.

I had the door opened tonight while I was cooking to keep our little place aired-out, and I turned around and she was gone. Outside in the courtyard exploring on her own, without me.

Prior to today, she wouldn’t even stick a toe out of the doorway without Mama by her side.

She’s adjusting and getting more comfortable and she’s beginning to realize the threats in her mind aren’t founded in reality.

She’s relaxing a little.

Mama’s relaxing a little.

I like having her little body at home when I get in from work. I like having to tend to her. Scoop her litter. Feed her treats. Sweep up. Freshen her water. I needed something to have responsibility towards more than just myself.

It’s good for me.

It’s good for her.

We’re going to be okay.

And all those worries?

Are all just things I worried about three worries ago.

So keep perspective.  Worry about the things you know, and not the things you think.

There’s often a solution. Like changing your pee-pants in the car, grabbing your cat and getting on that plane.*****

*****I know that’s not a Universal Specific, Reader. But bear with me, it’s All The Wine. I had to wrap this up.

stressin’ and obsessin’

Reader, it’s been Monday all damn day so far.

I got very short sleep last night. For a girl* who mostly has an upbeat attitude and an unclenched jaw, I still have a lot of stuff on my mind, and it tends to run away with itself as I’m trying to settle in for sleep.

*girl, yes girl, not middle-aged woman. because it’s my story and i’m holding on as long as i want.

Recently I read a thing that I wrote down because it was prophetic, and it said something like, “What were your worries three worries ago?”

I think I read this from Liz Gilbert (eat-pray-love), and I’ve actually gone and tried to recall my worries from three worries ago, and some came right to mind, but others were tough to drum up. So I’m trying to just Calm Down, as T-Swizzle sings, and remind myself that these worries will all be past worries at some point and probably won’t even amount to much of anything.

I’m mostly worried about going home this weekend, and then making the decision to bring one of mon petite chats down to Florida and letting him – or her – settle in here with me.

I worry about who to bring. Probably DJ, but I miss Purry, too, and also Toby (but he is NOT a good candidate for change); the others wouldn’t be good with change either, especially in a small temporary house, so it’s really just one of those two.

I worry that once I bring him, he’s going to feel confined in this space vs. the house.

I worry that I’ll let him out on the patio with me and #1/ the owner won’t like it and tell me non, and then he’ll never be allowed out with me and he will be sad.

I don’t want him to be sad.

I just will be happy when these worries are my worries three worries ago.

Since I had such fraught-filled sleep last night, I’m hitting the hay.  And hoping that getting these darn fears out of my head and down on the computer will keep them from keeping me awake tonight.

It’s hard sometimes to be a girl who moves to Florida all by herself, Reader. But she’s learning and trying to flow with the go.

And oh, PS, in other news, I’ve been listening obsessively to T-Swifts new album and I’m in Lover with it, so there. Because I’m a young girl.  Ahem.

What’s Doin’

Yooouuuu Guyzzzz!!

I’m practicing writing from my new desk/computer area at my little Minute Florida House.  I finally got around to organizing most of my things, well, 80% of my things, and now I’m trying to use the various locations in my room so it feels like a great big house.

I need a trip to the dollar store next weekend to buy a few baskets to organize the rest of my things. That’s a project for then, not this weekend, because I’m minding my p’s and q’s (pennies and quarters? is that what it really stands for??) until payday. So no unnecessary spending until then. Most things can wait, unless if I were out of toilet paper or coffee – neither of those things can wait. Luckily I’m stocked for a week or so on both, unless some disaster happens on my insides.

My steps have really fallen behind since living here. And being employed where I sit much of my time. I’m talking about the steps that my Apple watch bothers me about, Reader, not like I’ve fallen behind on building a staircase. Don’t be ridiculous, I can’t build a staircase.  I’ve really stopped closing those exercise rings on my watch, which is basically just a really pushy and pricey Fitbit, and I’m not quite sure why I’ve fallen behind, because I got in the pool not once, but TWICE today, Reader, for my HEALTH, and not because I was procrastinating cleaning up my minute house. Yes, it’s my Minute House, as in it takes one minute to walk the whole entire perimeter of it, so don’t pronounce it “my-nute” or then our brains aren’t talking the same way and we should always try to be in sync, Reader, because that’s how energy in the universe works, or maybe I’m thinking of girls and their menstrual cycles, but either way, it’s MIN-ITE house, and shew, that was a long way to go.

The morning views in my Minute House are still spectacular.  I mean, it’s not a beach view, but it’s not a shame on the eyes.

That was when I woke up this morning and peeped outside to see how it was looking. It was looking like I needed to slip on my swimsuit and grab my orange float, which is exactly what happened.

Then I came in and worked on the putting away of my stuff, and cooking not just one, but two damn meals for the upcoming week in that teensy tinesy kitchen.

Friday night’s dinner was a Cowboy Ribeye steak dinner, so I haven’t been exactly inconvenienced in the cooking arena by my smaller surroundings. I’ve made due.

I promise I’ll post pictures of my cutie little minute house next weekend, because I know you’re all clamoring to see where I rest my head at night.  Go with me on this, Reader, make me feel the love down here.

I’ll have more stuff to say, now that I have my computer out of the bag and set up on her desk, and believe me, it’s going to be way way way more boring exciting than posting pictures of what I’ve cooked on my 2-burner stove. Just you wait, Reader.  But remember this:

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