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The Bang Bang Theories

Step To It

You Guys, it’s been a whirl-wind around Chez Bang Bang lately, as I seem to be on my Farewell Tour and I’m trying hard to number one, get small things that I’ve procrastinated doing for five years finally done, and two, see all my friendies, and three, drink lottsa wine because full-up bottles would just be heavy to move so it just makes sense to drink them here and I’m nothing if not all about good sense, and four, sell some more crap valuable stuff to earn a bit of travelling money and five, finally make a job decision, which vacillates daily based on either a sound financial decision or a wow, this could be fun decision.

Shew-eeee, that was a lot of words up there, and now you have just a teensy small peek inside the brain of Trixie BB.  It’s exhausting in there.

In the mix of all the goings-on, I’ve been trying to soak up more outdoorsy time on the deck, and six of my three cats usually join me. The other night I locked up  the slider so Bad Guys don’t get the bright idea to just waltz in and intrude in my b-hole because I still watch a lot of Forensic Files and I’m not falling for “just leave the door open, who can get in” part of my brain that tries to trick me into a false sense of security. I lock it up around here, Bad Guys.

The following night we heard a “mmmmmeeeeeeewwwww.”  It was faint, but after some careful shushing of each other, we heard it again, and it was coming from the deck.

One of my poor little clowder had been trapped out there for probably twenty-four hours-ish, and she was wet and mad and hungry and insulted.

Now, in my defense:

  1. I turned on the light and called “Kitty Kitty” before shutting the door.  She needs to be responsible for not speaking up and coming in.
  2. She’s more of a loner around here, so her presence, or lack thereof, wasn’t really noticed, because she never hangs out with us anyway. Again, on her.
  3. I guess that’s it. I’m shirking the blame onto a 10 lb. cat, where it rightfully belongs.

It’s an absolutely gorgeous day in Cle today, and of course I flung open the door to enjoy my cuppa coffee on the deck and write a story for you, and post some doesn’t-spark-joy stuff for sale.

After several trips back and forth to get coffee, computer, blah blah, I looked down and realized My Kitten On the Deck All Night had left a little pile of poo behind for me, and I didn’t realize I’d stepped in it because I was wearing flip flops, and oh, girl! did she get the last laugh on me as I tracked that literal shit throughout the house and deck.

So that happened this morning, all before I even got a chance to enjoy my first cuppa joe.

And now I have to state the final decision on my job opportunities because I haven’t officially declared it yet, but it’s time to just get on with life.  I’m going with the oh doesn’t this sound fun! opportunity. Because beach. No amount of pros or cons on my thought-out list can sway me from those simple two words. Sometimes it’s just that simple.  And if I end up stepping in it and tracking it through my life, I’ll do what I always do – clean it up and move along.


4 thoughts on “Step To It

  1. As sorry as I am to see you go, I am thrilled for you to be choosing the beach. You will definitely get some visitors from us! If in the future you need someone to drive down to Florida with your belongings, please consider my daughter and her boyfriend who would love the opportunity and have actually done that before. She also wants to get experience with Animal Care and or Transportation if you need some cats taken also. I am going to hook you up with my friend innette sarduy via email, who moved up here from Tampa and can advise you on transplantation in your 50s. You go girl!

  2. Sometimes we have to bite the bullet and go for it. Your young, you are a surviver.

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