Having dropped off Maribou on Saturday, I find myself smack dab in the middle of the whole “Maribou is never allowed to go anywhere ever again” portion of her vacation.
The cats miss her horribly. “Where is the nice one?” they call to each other as they wander from room to room. Even Momo, the one who hisses at her and then runs to be petted by me has decided that, meh, it’s more fun to hang with me when it’s something done pointedly at her rather than merely hanging with me for its own sake. So I feed them, put out catnip for them, talk to them about how soon Mommy will be coming back, fall asleep all by my lonesome and then wake with all of them somewhere in the bedroom.
Part of their foul mood, of course, is due to the fact that work this week has decided that this is the week where I get home at 8. Sometimes it’s this thing being on fire, sometimes it’s that thing, sometimes it’s the other department screaming about how Jaybird’s department is the bottleneck preventing them from doing their job because oh we didn’t realize you sent us that document last week when we asked for it, thanks for taking two hours to prove it.
As such, I was told to just take a half day tomorrow which, granted, will turn into a full day because of this fire and maybe that fire, but it’s the thought that counts.
So, basically, my week of being a bachelor has pretty much amounted to stuff like “I should get some groceries on the way home…” and then it being 9ish when I get there and then going to bed shortly thereafter.
Maribou, meanwhile, has been writing short little emails that say stuff like “Went to the Eiffel Tower today! Exhausted!” or “Notre Dame! Louvre tomorrow!” or “Walked 13,800 steps today! I am beat! In the good way!” and those are pretty much all of the details that I have to share.
I imagine that I’ll be getting the long version when she gets back.
But this weekend will be a good one! Friday night will be devoted to doing the laundry that I got all messy this week so that the washer/dryer will be free the second we get her suitcase into the basement. Saturday will be devoted to stuff like “the groceries/Costco” and, Saturday Night, to gaming… but my gaming group has already been emailed “tell Jay that he has to be at the airport at 9:15 so he has to leave at 8:45”. So *THAT* is covered… and Sunday will be devoted to easing back to normal.
Jet Lag is going to be a bit of a pain, I’m certain.
All in all, batching it was a lot more fun when I was, oh, 34. Sometimes I made it a full week before hitting “Maribou is never allowed to go anywhere ever again.”
So… what’s on your docket?
(Photo is “Footrace finish line, 1925” from the Seattle Municipal Archives, used under a creative commons license)