Welcome to Daylight Savings Time (DST)! That wonderful time of year when all our animals think we’re absolutely nuts for upsetting their feeding schedules. All 11 of ours have been fed, the dogs have been out, and we’re hanging out together listening to the late Ronnie Milsap’s 1979 album “IMAGE.” So far, everyone seems to be in a good mood. After yesterday’s rough start, a calm morning is appreciated. I may even make pancakes after taking a shower.
Yesterday was pretty quiet around the house. Tipper went to the salon with her mom for a pedicure and then had lunch with her grandmother. Apparently, they discussed the lingering prevalence of negative female stereotypes in anime over an anime-themed McDonald’s meal. Watching this little girl grow up and form her own opinions is one of the greatest joys of my life. The thought that I might not be here as she continues to grow hurts deeply in my soul.
G took advantage of the quiet to play video games that didn’t require him to do coding. The educational aspect diminishes the level of pleasure in playing the game, but he’s nonetheless proud of his accomplishments. He enjoys the solitude he gets in his room on the weekends. At his core, G’s a rather private person. He manages social activity at school through the week but doing so is exhausting. He’s high functioning enough that it’s easy to forget he’s on the autism spectrum and is challenged by social situations. He needs the alone time to recharge for the next week.
Yesterday’s biggest challenge was finding space on the bed so I could nap. The Gang of Five has recently become a steady Gang of Eight. For those who are new, we have a total of nine cats and two dogs in the house. When I first moved into the Recovery Room a year ago, it was a rotating mystery of who was going to settle in here. Not everyone likes the room. Not everyone gets along. Now, Lyndy and Fat Guy snuggle with G and Jack curls up on top of the dog food container. Everyone else is right in here with me, trying to fit on a queen-size bed. Lying down for a nap involves carefully circumnavigating all the bodies, trying to not fall on top of anyone, until I reach a spot on the pillows large enough for my big head. Getting up without someone hissing at me is almost impossible. It’s a snuggly existence, which is nice since no humans want to get that close.
Oh, while I’m thinking about it, we have a huge (three-pound maybe?) log of Canadian bacon in the back of the freezer. It’s been there a while and I’m not totally sure where it came from. I know I didn’t buy it. My question is: what the hell am I supposed to do with this thing? The only time I’ve experienced Canadian bacon is on pizza and this is way too much for pizza. Any suggestions? It’s just sitting at the back of the freezer taking up space. I don’t want it to go to waste, but I’m clueless about how to use it in a way that is pleasing to everyone.
I’m laughing at this line in a song, “Put on your high-heeled sneakers we’re going out tonight, And bring your boxing gloves in case some fool wants to fight.” The lyrics are funny enough on their own, but when you remember that Ronnie Milsap was blind, it makes for a hilarious mental image.
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