Y’all, I got injured last weekend.
I know what you are thinking. I know you are remembering my last post in which I told you that Woney and Squash and Nurse Bananahammock and I were going to drink like fish, and you are thinking “serves her right, big lush”. And I’ll be honest with you; this is exactly what happened in my kitchen Friday night:
Then this is what happened in my kitchen Saturday night:
And then this is what happened in my kitchen Sunday night:
And yes, a good time was had by all. Let the record show, though, that no bad decisions were made during any of these drinking incidents (unless you count my signing up and paying for a half marathon a bad decision. I am still unsure.) As I told you last time, I didn’t get to 40 by being a dumbass.
However! On Monday, when nothing happened in my kitchen at all, when none of us had a drop to drink other than water, when the sun was shining and when we were all calm and slightly subdued, I got hit by a car. Not my car. Me. *I* got hit by a car.
Let me tell you the story. See, Woney and I were dropping Squash off at the airport and as I was hugging her good-bye, I noticed that the area in which I parked my car was being encroached upon by a minivan with an old woman at the wheel. I thought to myself, “She’s awfully close there,” but then continued my sayonaras and arriva dercis with Squash. I made to return to my car and noticed that the old lady was even further encroached in the space where my back bumper sat. To avoid a tight squeeze between our cars, I walked around the front of my car to get in. As I did so, she gunned her motor, racing up to speeds of a half a mile an hour and she hit me. A person. She hit a person. With her minivan.
Ooh, I was Not Happy! I smacked her minivan and said “badword, badword, badword, LADY!” And do you know what she did? She gave me a finger wave and drove off. Like, “whoops, toodles, ta ta.” I’m here to tell you that her version of a finger wave after that sort of accident and my version of a finger wave after that sort of accident are two different finger waves.
Y’all, I was injured. I had not been drinking (again, not a dumbass), was totally in my own lane, was hugging a friend good-bye, and some nefarious wretched old person injured me. Probably I’m going to keep the nature of the injuries to myself until I see what kind of sympathy I can get from all of you, but ow.
And then! It gets worse! I have another story.
So Murphy, who is a bit of a slut, very much enjoyed the company of my nice new and old friends this weekend. All attention, all the time and Murphy is happy. Typically I’m alright with that as there’s only so much ear rubbing and fur scratching one person can give. Its only when he settles down into comfy Murphy, all wadded up amongst the covers, that I enjoy him the most. In those instances, when he’s snuggly and warm and purring, I’d rather have him all to myself. That’s the best Murphy, see. It upset me ever so slightly that Murphy decided to knead his biscuits on Woney’s blanket during all the girl movies we watched. I got a little indignant when he snoozed away the hours on her knees, but again, he’s pretty free with his love and I guess that’s what you expect from that sort of cat.
Seamus, though, is the one who did me in – this is the really injurious part (you see what I did there?). For three and one half years I have waited for that cat to come out of his shell. I’ve been patient, giving him peas and treats and space. I just knew that my persistence would eventually win him over. His shyness was the whole reason I adopted those two varmints in the first place. Well, his shyness and the hopes I could make him overcome it. I’ve waited for the day he would tentatively and shyly creep over to my side of the bed, settle himself in the crook of my arm and snooze away. And he did do that. He did. BUT WITH WONEY!
Now I love Woney, don’t get me wrong, but are you f-ing @#$$%@#@ kidding me? I said “badword, badword, badword, SEAMUS!” Want to know what he did? He gave me a finger wave and went to sleep.
Feel sorry for me, won’t you?
Love, Jimmie 