One: I have friends who don’t refer to their pets as their children, which I guess makes sense because pets are critters and not, you know, folks, but… I totally think of my cat as my kid, but one who never outgrows her shoes for the umpteenth time in a year and who won’t have to take the SAT. Part of that is being Crazy Cat Lady, but the other part is that she doesn’t have anyone else. She’s a smallish being who relies on me for the basics – shelter, food, comfort – and who trusts me to make sure that her life is awesome, and in return? She makes my life awesome.
So yeah, she’s kind of like my child.
I should be able to declare her on my taxes, right?
Two: I have some other friends who are all about The Secret. Alllllll about it. One of them (if you think it’s you, by the way? It’s probably not…) recently said that I should tell the Universe what kind of partner I would be looking for, should I be looking for one. So here’s my letter to the Universe, for your reading amusement:
If you were, perhaps, thinking of sending a Partner of the Romantic variety in my general direction, I have some requests. Are you taking requests? If you’re not, I can probably come back later. I don’t mean to bother you. (THIS IS NOT HOW THE SECRET WORKS, said my friend. Just TELL the Universe what you want!) Oh, wait, my bossy friends say that you ARE taking requests. Okay. Well, this seems weird – a partner is not a pizza, and picking out traits like toppings seems kind of whacked, but this is what I’d like: someone who thinks smart is fabulous. Who isn’t threatened by smart. Who thinks I’m pretty even when I’m making cranky faces. Who isn’t inclined to mock my lack of common sense or my ability to get lost. Someone who thinks singing along with the radio is always okay, and who doesn’t make fun of my voice or my love of James Taylor. I’d like a partner who understands that I don’t want to be rescued, but who thinks that cheering me on while I figure my stuff out is entirely appropriate and fun. Who likes to curl up and watch movies, but doesn’t get mad when my arm falls asleep and I ruin the moment by doing the “OH GOD MY CIRCULATION” dance and who thinks that reading a lot is possibly the sexiest thing ever and who likes to cook and who thinks that picnics are fun and that personal space is never overrated and who is cool with sometimes being silent and sometimes laughing like a deranged lunatic. Oh, and who likes to travel, but who gets that sometimes travelling stresses me out. Do you have one of those?
One more thing: this person needs to love cats. A LOT.
Thanks a bunch,
(and here’s what my friend said: You are a LUNATIC. But your list is cute.)
Three: My houseguests have come and gone. If they had wanted to stay, I would have slept on an air mattress FOREVER. I’m just saying.
Four: I am trying to get myself to eat more salads, if only because my friend V brought over the most delicious salad dressing ever and I need to have something to pour it on. I’m bad about salads, because they have a really short shelf life, and if you’ve ever opened a container of salad that has given up on healthy and lovely and become badass and stinky, you know why I shy away from the salad-y goodness.
But, you know, you have to try.
Here’s what my salad contains: some kind of leafy greens, tomato, cuke, bleu cheese, hardboiled eggs, sunflower seeds, marinated mushrooms. Okay, so maybe it’s not the healthiest salad ever, but I’m TRYING. Shouldn’t trying count for something?
Five: People continually surprise me, and not always in good ways (though, also? Not always in bad ways). The above four points are in my head, I suspect, as a means of distracting me from this one. But I’ll sort through it. This is what I do!
*I’m kidding. Mostly.