This won't make sense, sorry! Just had to get it out of my system.
I just responded to some passive aggression from a friend by responding in kind. I suspect she'll think I was unaware that she was being passively aggressive, but she won't be sure. I'm not sure which idea I like better: that she was aware of my passive aggression in kind, which makes everything fair, or that she wasn't aware of it, and thought she got one over on me. But here's the thing: she didn't. She'll never understand that in this case, lately, I've been burning the city in order to save it. Or something like that.
I'm mildly curious about whether, in a month or two, this post will make sense to me; I'd be surprised if it makes sense to anyone but me (except probably the SO) even now.
Wednesday, July 24, 2013
Monday, July 15, 2013
Dear Lilibet - anyone else probably should skip this
Oh, my Kibbee. I miss you. It's bothering me that now both your brothers have decided to adopt your dad, and I'm alone. But that wasn't what I logged on to write.
The batting me - "hello, I would like petting" - drove me crazy at the time, but it was prissy and very you, so I miss it. Phibba Girlie Brown, a cobbler with warmth and flavor, brownth and warmth and smallth. Bunny feet, like a jackrabbit, and a strippit tawny tummy, and very small paws. Tete petite, et nez minuscule. Little, Brown, and Company. It's weird not to have leaflets three anymore. Weirder still, and sadder, to think I'll never give you tummy pets again. Weird ways of liking asparagus, and baked bean sauce, and pine needles. And broom straws, and (when possible) wheat weavings.
The stealth way of sneaking onto a lap and being there for a while before I even noticed, and your tenacity about staying. The obliging way you had of waiting until it was absolutely necessary to jump off me when I rolled over at night, and then waiting until I settled again, so you could jump right back on and continue sleeping on my side. Waiting in the mornings for me to be awake enough to pet you properly, and usually being in the bathroom waiting for first markies after I showered.
And that first night, when I had you sleep on my red sleeping bag because I worried you'd pee on my bed, and I had you sleep up by my head so I didn't roll over onto you. You were very good about staying there. All those times we put post-its on your tail, just so you'd run around and get them off. That last night, when you stayed on the bed almost all night and let us pet you.
I'm hoping this will be cathartic for me (if tedious for anyone else to read). You would have hated how weepy I am. But really, I want this to be an aid to memory; I don't want to forget any of the things I loved most about you. You were small and brown and perfect. You were Phiboku, and you had a brown nose, and a tail like a lemur's. You were a preferred pet.
The batting me - "hello, I would like petting" - drove me crazy at the time, but it was prissy and very you, so I miss it. Phibba Girlie Brown, a cobbler with warmth and flavor, brownth and warmth and smallth. Bunny feet, like a jackrabbit, and a strippit tawny tummy, and very small paws. Tete petite, et nez minuscule. Little, Brown, and Company. It's weird not to have leaflets three anymore. Weirder still, and sadder, to think I'll never give you tummy pets again. Weird ways of liking asparagus, and baked bean sauce, and pine needles. And broom straws, and (when possible) wheat weavings.
The stealth way of sneaking onto a lap and being there for a while before I even noticed, and your tenacity about staying. The obliging way you had of waiting until it was absolutely necessary to jump off me when I rolled over at night, and then waiting until I settled again, so you could jump right back on and continue sleeping on my side. Waiting in the mornings for me to be awake enough to pet you properly, and usually being in the bathroom waiting for first markies after I showered.
And that first night, when I had you sleep on my red sleeping bag because I worried you'd pee on my bed, and I had you sleep up by my head so I didn't roll over onto you. You were very good about staying there. All those times we put post-its on your tail, just so you'd run around and get them off. That last night, when you stayed on the bed almost all night and let us pet you.
I'm hoping this will be cathartic for me (if tedious for anyone else to read). You would have hated how weepy I am. But really, I want this to be an aid to memory; I don't want to forget any of the things I loved most about you. You were small and brown and perfect. You were Phiboku, and you had a brown nose, and a tail like a lemur's. You were a preferred pet.
Heartbreaking confusion
We put the girl-cat to sleep today, and now the boy-cat - who lived with her for well over 15 years - is wandering around trying to find her. I keep trying to explain, or just to comfort him, and it's not working. He's not howling or anything like that, just bewildered and, I think, convinced he'll find her if he just keeps looking. Damned if it isn't making me cry.
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