It’s been A Minute, Reader. I’d like to make a vow to you right now that we’ve (meaning me and my brain and my fingertips) have regrouped, and we have Stories to Tell and will be bringing it all to you in 2024.
Except. I apparently am not a good vow keeper (see: 2x divorcee), except I did keep my marriage vows (the only one of the parties involved who did, ahem), so I’m not convinced that counts against me. In fact, I’m not taking the blame for either of those disaster endings. I have enough to be blamed for, one of which I’m dealing with at this precise moment.
I’m apparently at the age where my brain is starting to slip.
I can’t remember shit.
I get everything wrong.
Everything I do is the opposite of what I should do.
I miss deadlines (not work deadlines, thank Garth). but other deadlines, like booking my next cruise within 30 days of my last cruise to redeem my free cruise. Who can even think about a next cruise when just getting off a cruise and then stepping right into the holidays?? This little missed date may just have cost us $2000 in future free cruising. I’m waiting for a call back from the cruise casino now, which is why I’m here for you to talk about stuff, like my bad brain.
On Christmas Eve, I tossed out a handful of coupons that expired at the end of December. My brain interpreted that as expiring on Christmas, the following day, when nothing is opened except Chinese restaurants, so I just pitched them right out. Because Christmas is obviously the end of the month. In my brain. I even double-downed on that thought and said it out loud to my brother and My Mister, and neither one of them staunchly corrected me.
Then, I did a whole bunch of other dumb things that made zero sense and well, I’m going to blame my insomnia that I have been experiencing for months now. Months, Reader. Of sketchy sleep – difficulty falling asleep (despite being so restlessly tired I can’t stand my own skin), staying asleep, and spending those insomniac moments online shopping, and waking up to a porch filled with packages. No amount of bedtime stretches, warm showers, calming breaths, FOCL deep sleep, 4-7-8 breathing or even Matthew McConaughey reading me a Sleep Story from Calm was keeping me asleep more than an hour.
And I was paying the price, Reader, literally. Bad brain. Bad buys. Not able to put a good strategic thought together. Squandering my evenings laying around. Dreading the thought of having to do absolutely anything. My phrase was, “I’m so tired, I’m already tired tomorrow!” Dreading evenings when I had things to do, even if they were fun things.
And then one of my Night Purchases may have provided the solution! After researching sleep patches, I purchased these and I have slept THROUGH THE NIGHT for the past 3 nights, since I got them.
The first night I didn’t wake up until morning. I was recharged and did Things and got my shit together and tackled crap.
The second night I woke up only once for a 4 a.m. pee, and went right back to sleep. Last night, samesies – only one 4 a.m. wakey to pee – except I was enchanted by my kittehs and had to grab my phone for a quickie pic because they were so damn adoryable I couldn’t stand it.
Their cuteness was worth not staying asleep.
p.s., don’t look too closely at that photo, you’ll see the dust on the nightstand. It’s My Mister’s nightstand, which holds a cat bed so the babes can look out the window and onto the ravine wildlife. Except My Mister never ever ever dusts or cleans his side of the bedroom. He uses that nightstand as a trashcan, and just throws whatever in the drawers, so they won’t close properly. I avoid looking in that area generally, in the best interest of my blood pressure. I mostly focus on keeping my side dusted and cleaned up. I’ll go so far as to even only make my 1/2 of the bed. There’s a therapist out there would would love to examine this, probably.
Now, if you’re not a friendie on FB with me, Reader, you’re probably wondering WTH (who the heck) is that sleeping with Mean Dory*.
Mean ahDoryable original kitten art.
*while still ahDoryable, we realized just how bitey and scratchy she really is once she’s been compared with her sugar-sweet honey-drip sister.
Well, Mean Dory needed a sister.
She had zero cats to play with, and was terrorizing my old grouchy boy cats, particularly Wally, who has been irreversibly broken as a result. Wally is so grouchy now, he has to wear a cat calming collar just to take the edge off his personality. All because of AhDoryable pouncing him for five weeks, trying to entice him to play.
So Dory got a sissy, and this match could not have gone any better. We bought* a same-ish age girl kitten from the APL and they have sistered up. The sister’s official name is Roxy, except she is known by Wha’cha because 1. it sounds like a cute little polish name and 2. she wants to know every single thing we’re doing: wha’cha eating, wha’cha drinking, wha’cha watching, wha’cha doing. Her nose is in it.
sidebar: *I don’t get the “adopt don’t shop” folks. because adopting at the APL is also shopping, as I’m perusing all the animals, and then paying for the one I want. It’s all shopping, unless you find one in the wild as we did with Mean Doryto. These animals in the APL already exist, just as they already exist in a pet store. Not “shopping” for them in a pet store dooms them to death, too, if no one buys them. So if that’s your stance, please enlighten me what is supposed to happen to all those animals. I’m curious as to the solution. Also, I don’t judge people who want a specific animal brand. People want what they want. Some what labradoodles, golden retrievers, chichuahuas, Whatever makes you happy.
Our new baby girl is the most perfect perfect perfect kitten in the whole entire world, period, i’ll fight you if you say otherwise. I’ll throw hands.
She single-pawed destroyed the kitty water fountain because she wanted to understand how it worked. We woke up to a Godfather moment, with a wet squishy thing in bed with us. It was the water filter sponge she’d carried in to show us her kill.
But she’s perfect. Perfect, perfect, perfect. I love her so damn hard. She’s the best thing that happened to me in 2023, and I had some stand-out moments.
2023 also delivered some Shit Whopper Sandwiches, so I needed a few “goods” on the other side of the seesaw. But we’re not going to get into the Shit Whoppers because why. It’s a new year, a new day, and life is a cycle and I have to believe it’s going to level out.
Although, I just – in between typing this – found out I missed the opportunity to book a free 10 day cruise to Hawaii because the offer expired 12/23, and what the fuck, that’s an awful time to expire something because we’re in holiday season and who’s even thinking about that? And all I can do is put all my annoyance in the trash along with the no-good certificate and move on.
This weekend my friendie and I should have been in Miami, celebrating her 21st (ahem) birthday, except she caught that damn Covid and is too sick to travel so both of us are grounded and that’s also disappointing. We are going to put that disappointment in the trash with the other disappointment and move on.
So it’s all about highs and lows, Reader. We all have them. It does seem like the highs are a little harder to come by, though, and they are a lot more fleeting. But for 2024, my intention is to not wallow in the low spots, to remember the vibes of the highs and if all else fails, snuggle up with my honeydripper of a kitten. She’s a good reminder of what a perfect perfect perfect little thing feels like.