Her Ladyship

Notes from the gutter.

Saturday, August 01, 2009

Lots of sittin'

I've had a fun week on the couch. My back occasionally decides to stage a work strike and opt not to cooperate, and Wednesday was a full work stoppage. I stayed home from work for two days and didn't even check my emails (which is when you know I'm sick). Wednesday I alternated between being camped out on the couch and taking uber-hot showers. That, and the dozens (only slight exaggerating) of ibuprofen that I took, helped me enough that I could make it to a therapeutic massage on Thursday, which seems to have sped up the healing process.

But ugh. Wednesday I toddled to the pharmacy - it's 1.5 blocks from my house, took me 45 minutes to get there and back - only to find out that they don't sell over-the-counter muscle relaxants. How did the older sister get them in "16 Candles" then? Anyways, I was desperate for a pain reliever and something to stop the muscles from seizing, so I fixed myself a few strong vodka and coke zero drinks. Let me tell you, drinking at home alone in front of daytime TV is not as much fun as you might anticipate. But it worked. And I should be in decent enough shape to get on another airplane tomorrow.

Yes, "another" airplane, as I just flew last weekend. I still had some frequent flyer miles and it was a friend in SA's baby shower, plus there was always the benefit of seeing The Texan and the pets. So off I went. I worked a few days when I was there but mostly just took it easy. When I left, they were on their 31st day of over-100 degree weather, which really inhibits one's interest in doing anything that involves leaving the air conditioning. Luckily, The Texan made my mom's lasagna my first day there so we had plenty of grub for the weekend.

It was great seeing The Texan again. And it was fun getting caught up with my SA friends. Seeing the pets, on the other hand.... The dog was his usual exuberant self. The cat, however, seems to be shifting his loyalty to The Texan. Not enough to wake him up at 4am; that honor he still reserves for me. But when he'd walk into a room, he'd go over to The Texan first and then me, the person who flew 1600 miles to see his ungrateful ass, second. This led to many iterations of the following scene:

Us, sitting par usual at opposite ends of our sectional, watching TV

Shrapnel walks into the room, jumps up next to The Texan, and sits about four inches from his face, staring intently at him.

The Texan: Okay, I'll pet you. pets the cat Fine, I petted you. Go away.

Me: Shrapnel, I'll pet you! Come here!

The Texan: I'm ignoring you, cat.

Me: Babycakes! Over here!

The Texan: eyes on the TV

Shrapnel: eyes on The Texan

Me: Sweetheart! Petting is to be had over here!

Shrapnel: rolls eyes, walks over to my end of the couch, but keeps an eye on The Texan in case he changes his mind.

Repeat ad nauseum.

Sigh. I guess, if I want to be mature about it, I would realize that the cat is nearly 18 years old and if he gets depressed, would spiral down pretty quickly, so it's a good thing that he's adapting fine to my absence. But when he's back here in DC, I'll win him back. With hugs! Cats love hugs. (Note to non-cat people: not really.) Hmm, I think I see where the problem is.