Daily travails

Bridget thought this email to her was blog worthy. I don't know about that. It reads as just another ordinarily frustrating day. But here it is. You decide. Clarifying, editorial comments are in red.

Yesterday, Cosmo peed on the kitchen rug. I haul it, along with a laundry basket of clothes to the local homeless hangout, otherwise known as the laundromat (this is because I've sold my washer and dryer - new FL house comes with their own). First, though, I stop at a convenience store to buy a bottle of water and break a $20. It was raining. When I got out of my car, I was parked over a drainage grate. I was wearing my old birkenstocks which have no tread anymore. I step on the wet grate and not asphalt. My foot goes out from under me, I grab the car door. There goes the back. I can not bend forward at my hips any further than about 4 inches. I'm lurching around to the point where Quasimodo is graceful compared to me. As much as I feel sorry for myself - I've been battling back, pelvis and leg pain for several months now - I'm not near as bad as this. Gives me a little perspective when I start the self pity party. It just sucks to hurt it worse when you are trying to be careful and recover.

My sister #3 (the numerical designation is strictly based on birth order and has nothing to do with family standing, prosperity or affection :-))is taking Malcolm for laser today (we've been doing class 4 laser treatments on Mally's back end to try to give him some relief from his chronic pain). I decide to hobble out last night and try to clean the car as much as possible. I wanted to do it before we leave anyways and I really don't want her totally grossed out today. Of course, it took me probably three times as long because I have no range of motion. As I'm cleaning, I hear Cosmo doing his usual hysterics. Because, of course, you know, if I'm messing around with the car out in the garage, it must mean he's going someplace even though it's 11 pm. That's his reality in Cosmo World. I finish, come in the house. He's peed on the rug I just washed at the laundromat.

I get up this morning, roll and creak out of bed. Start doing some cleaning and organizing, for the movers who are supposed to be coming and packing today although I haven't heard a peep out of them. According to the dispatcher though, they are on the schedule. We shall see if anyone shows up. So I'm doing that and also cleaning because some fruitcake is insisting on seeing the house today at 11. She HAS to buy a house this week and she doesn't care if there are movers in here packing or what. I'm in the kitchen, I smell something. I turn around. Cosmo has left the biggest pile ever on the towel (that I have no ability to wash easily) that I put in front of the door for them when they come in from the backyard.

The movers are coming. The prospective buyer is coming. I can't move. My house is a mess. It smells like shit.

Miss Has To See My House Because She's Buying One This Week never shows. Her realtor never even calls to inform me they won't show. I sic my realtor on them. He doesn't like rude people. :-)

One last thing - when those movers say they are coming to pack, they do not mess around. They pack and they pack everything! And you don't realize just how used you are to having stuff at your fingertips until it is all packed away, out of reach, in neatly labelled boxes. Tonight I had to eat a soy yogurt and wash out the container all so I could drink my nightly numerous gin and tonics. Movers won't pack and move alcohol so I am doing my darnedest to work my way through 1.75 liters of BeefEaters. I can gift the rest of the stuff, the whiskey, the rum, etc to Bridget. But I really lurve my gin. I know. Real classy.