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:
Dear
Universe,
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,
Yellie
(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?
No?
Darn it.
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.
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