All Dressed Up with No Place to Go

Every now and then, I decide it would be fun to dress the animals up in various costumes because I tend to be slightly sadistic when I get bored. So the last time, I asked McMoose to take some pictures so that I could share my sadism with the rest of the world.

Here's Black Cat:

See how calm she is? How laid back? If I had left her alone, she'd happily have stayed in that same position for the next thirteen hours. And I think this is probably because she was raised primarily by McMoose, who is also pretty calm and pretty laid back and pretty content to stay in the same position for thirteen hours. And who also likes hats.

Enter Yellow Cat:

See how very un-calm he is? See the smoky frustration pouring from his floppy ears? See the disgruntle-ment (why yes, it IS a word, thank you for asking) mirrored in his eyes? If this was a movie instead of a photo, you'd see his tail swishing in rage. About two seconds later, you'd see him swipe the hat off his head. You'd hear him growl and hiss and snarl. Care to venture a guess as to who raised him?

It's Not DiGiorno, It's Delivery

Last week, we had a furniture store deliver a coffee table and two end tables that we had bought on Memorial Day. So this furniture store left us no fewer than 5 messages, informing us that we should "Please expect delivery of furniture on Tuesday, June 3rd between 2 PM and 5 PM." So I made sure that I was home and ready for any curveballs that the delivery people might throw at me, because invariably, they do. At 4:57 PM, I got a phone call:

Lady from furniture store: Ma'am? Is this Apartment 7207?
Me: Yes.
Lady: Are you expecting a furniture delivery?
Me: Yes.
Lady: Could you open the door please? My driver is there. They rang the doorbell
Me: Um...Ok...I didn't hear the doorbell. *Walk to door. Open it. Look around. No one's there.* Hello? Are you still there?
Lady: Yes, ma'am.
Me: There's no one at the door. Or in the parking lot.
Lady: My driver says he's there.
Me: Ok. But I'm here, at home, standing outside the door. And he's not here.
Lady: I'll tell him to call you at this number.

Two minutes later, the driver calls and informs me that he is in front of the playground. Which is, oh, about 2 parking lots away from my building. So I walk on over there, only to find him parked in the middle of the street, far away from any and all apartment buildings. So exactly which doorbell did he ring?

Leaving on a Jet Plane, Part II

15 hours. I've spent 15 hours on a plane. I take back everything I said about liking to fly. I don't like airports, I don't like the smell of airplanes...but I do still like the food that comes wrapped in tin foil. You know what else I do like? Babies on the plane. Granted it's a little bit (a LOT) annoying when you've been in the air for 8 hours and for all but 20 minutes, the kid in the seat behind you has been crying. BUT--during those 20 quiet minutes, he's the sweetest, most adorable human being on the planet, and I love that.

And, I'm not sure if you're aware, but planes? A great place to have odd conversations. A couple of years ago, I was making another Very Long Trip, and found myself sitting next to a woman with twin one-year-olds, one of whom ended up spending much of the flight sitting in my lap. And as it turned out, the woman had gone to the same university that I was attending at the time, and we spent most of the flight talking about the campus, the town, and the professors that we both loved and hated at the same time. And during those 8 hours, we divulged more about ourselves that we normally would in 8 months of knowing someone.

This time, of course, I have McMoose and my mom and my step dad to talk to (and, more likely than not, be grouchy to), so outside conversations were few. But invariably, there are still a few conversations with random people that will stay in my memory and demarcate this trip as, say, "The one where we met the furniture salesman from Prague."

Leaving on a Jet Plane

Ok, time to divulge an odd fact: I really, really like flying. I like airports. I like the smell of airplanes. I like that the meals come wrapped in that tinfoil stuff. In fact, I often wish my local supermarket sold airplane food. I even kind of enjoy the whole going through security, removing your shoes process because come on, now. How many times do you ever get to walk around in your socks in a public place?

There is, however, one thing I'm not so fond of: changes in schedule. I like knowing, down to the minute, when I'm supposed to be boarding, and taking off, and enjoying my trail mix and coke. So I don't particularly enjoy it when flights get delayed or cancelled. But as much as I dislike that, I've decided that I like it much less when flights get pre-poned.

About a month ago, I got an email informing me that my flight to Newark, which was supposed to depart at 11 am was now scheduled to depart at 8 am. Which meant that McMoose and I had to wake up at 5:30 this morning so that we could get everything in the car, panic about last minute things, say good-bye to the cats, panic some more, get to the airport, park the car, take the bus, and so on. It was the first time I've been up that early since high school. I'm not pleased. And once we get to Newark, we will have approximately 8 hours of sitting around and waiting for our next flight. And since we're both already grumpy travelers, that means we get to start the "honeymoon" with 8 hours of sniping at each other NON STOP. Can you feel the love?

A Very Uninteresting Post

See the title of this post? Consider yourself warned. I've been running (RUNNING!) around all day trying to get things accomplished before we leave tomorrow and it's approximately 180 degrees out today, so I am completely incapable of being interesting today. Sorry.

So far today I:
-Went to work (where I accomplished, oh, NOTHING).
-Signed papers that I thought I had already signed.
-Figured out my online banking system.
-Had lunch with a friend whose birthday was today.
-Went to the bank. Had a fight with the ATM. Deposited 10 checks. Had another fight with the same ATM.
-Went to the post office. Stamps are more expensive today than they were two weeks ago. Why?
-Went to the vet's office to get my dog's medical records, just in case he has a fit of hypochondria while we're gone and manages to convince his babysitters that he is allergic to air.
-Talked to the vet assistant about looking in on the cats. She agreed. I rejoiced. McMoose grumbled about me making unilateral decisions and allowing strange people into our apartment.

Things I have left to do:
-Laundry.
-Take Yellow Cat to the vet to get his rabies shot. Because you know, rabies is oh-so-common in INDOOR CATS who are never exposed to any other animals, ever.
-Have a "consultation" with the pet sitter about...something that she said was very important, but that I have promptly forgotten. Super.
-Pack for India.
-Pack for India.
-PACK FOR INDIA.
-More laundry.
-Scan the dog's health records into my computer and email to his baby-sitter.
-Pay the cable bill.
-Call State Farm to inform them that as they have not sent me my bill and as I will be out of the country for two weeks and as they have no online bill pay system, the bill will not be paid on time. I predict that this call will end badly for all involved.
-Check the itinerary. Check flight status for all 4 of the flights we'll be on tomorrow.
-Convince McMoose that not all pet-sitters are evil.
-Quietly go insane from ALL THIS STRESS.

Ok. Tomorrow's post will be less crazy, and very probably more interesting. I promise.

The Doctor Will See You...Soon-ish

I spent three and a half hours at an urgent care center this afternoon, not because I have an urgent medical issue, but because I have a somewhat annoying medical issue which could, potentially, turn into a more urgent medical issue. And normally, I quite enjoy playing the let's-ignore-this-and-see-if-it-goes-away game, but since we're leaving on Friday for a two week trip to India, I felt that it would be a good idea to actually take care of it in a timely manner this time.

In case you weren't already aware of this fact, urgent care centers? Very creepy places. Worse than hospitals, even. I sat next to a guy who was casually reading a copy of Country Living after part of his ear had been CUT OFF. I mean, how do you even assimilate that into the rest of your day? How do you sit there reading about how to keep your linens smelling like springtime while you're holding a Tupperware container with part of your EARLOBE in it? But he pulled it off. And I sat there, thinking that if I were him, I'd be (a) screaming nonstop, and (b) very, very unhappy about being left to sit there ear-less, while someone with a sore throat was taken back to see the doctor. I mean, I get that this is supposed to be first come, first served unless it's a life threatening situation, but I feel that most people in that waiting room would have been perfectly happy to let that man cut ahead in line.

A Series of Very Fortunate Events

I really don't think I'm overstepping when I say that it is entirely possible that I had the least stressful wedding in the history of weddings. Which was absolutely fantastic, as well as being wholly unexpected, because considering how many wedding-related things went wrong in the months before the wedding, I pretty much expected my world to implode on the big day. And I was very pleasantly surprised because contrary to my expectations, everything happened at around the right time, everyone got along with each other, and even though I had no idea where my car keys were THE ENTIRE WEEKEND, I was surrounded by people who very graciously helped me look for them.

And as people were leaving, several of them mentioned how nice everything had been and what a good job McMoose and I had done of planning the thing, and I felt slightly...guilty. Because in reality, I think it was nice despite us, and not because of us. See, we had no Grand Vision for this day. In fact, we pretty much let the professionals do whatever they wanted. And the few guidelines that we did provide? Completely spur of the moment decisions. For example, when the baker asked what cake we wanted, our response was "Um...maybe...white? And with...hm...let's see...blue frosting? And some kind of decoration on it might be nice...right?" And we had very similar conversations with the DJ, the florist, the pastor, and the very patient woman at the reception hall. And, as it turns out, these people? They're pretty damn good at their jobs.

And the not-so-much professionals who were involved in this wedding did their jobs perfectly too. The hyperactive 8-year-old ring bearer did an admirable job of not losing the rings, the various family members did an even more admirable job of being civilized and getting along, and people actually got up and DANCED at the reception (albeit with a good deal of encouragement). And despite a forecast of thunderstorms, even the weather was unrelentingly cheerful. And now? I get to play with the MOUNTAIN of presents in my living room.