Riptide

If only we could all be so confident in our position in life, Reader, as this bitey-scratchy kitten is.

Kicked over a pillow, plopped herself down and sunned herself all afternoon, not a care to be had.

Her mama, on the other hand, has all the cares in the world on her shoulders, and frankly it’s making her feel bitey-scratchy. Her mama is me.

I want to just roll with it, like the beachy waves on a summer day, but mostly I churn around like a riptide, looking all calmish on the surface, but about to be towed under. Be careful if you decide to dip in, as you may get pulled under with me.  I don’t know why I have.a whole ocean metaphor happening, it just seems to be where we’re at right now. I just got home from swimming, so that’s probably why.

While I was swimming it crossed my mind that I, in fact, do not want to be a mermaid, and won’t buy any campy sayings or cups with any sort of Mer-mazing phrases because you know why? I want to be able to run and kick and not be confined by joined-together legs (where exactly is the b-hole and the p-hole?), at the mercy of whatever. No thank you. I’d rather be a cheetah, soft and furry and also dangerous and fast AF and also REAL, not some fantasy.

Age has made me harder than I used to be. It’s just some days are h.a.r.d carrying all the worries and obligations and you know what, I’d like to pass some of it around but it all just comes back home to rest on me.

At the same time I’m complaining about my h.a.r.d existence, I’m listening on audible to a book about a thirteen year old girl and her mama who fled North Korea and how the fuck dare I ever complain.

Except.  I just researched more about the author, who has the privilege of living here in America and she’s Fox News’ girl and it literally turned my mind off on her just like that and now she can go fuck herself. So ya know what, I may not care what happens next to her.

And that, Reader, is a perfect example of the riptide below my surface.

Alrightie, I literally had nothing to say, but I had a cute pic of AhDoryable to post, and now it’s going on 11 p.m. also known as the bedtime hour, and I have to find something I sold on eBay to ship it out and I just don’t know where it is and have looked once already today. I’m going to believe it will be at my fingertips when I go and look again before bed.

Wish me luck, Reader, in finding my item and my softness again.