Thursday, April 20

Thursday, April 20

I woke up with two toy mice in my bedroom.  They were harbingers of what I would find in the rest of the house.  All those cat toys I had so meticulously cleaned yesterday had been liberated from their plastic box and scattered throughout the living room, office, and bathroom.  Apparently much fun was had after I went to sleep last night.  I got all of those picked up and returned to their box right after feeding the feline overlords.

Today began with high hopes for a very productive day.   I really thought I’d be able to get the whole living room thoroughly cleaned.  It didn’t happen.

I did manage to fold the last load of laundry, sweep the laundry room again, clean that litterbox, and scrub that floor.  In the bedroom, I got all the bottled water put into the headboard of my bed and scrubbed the floor. I swept and scrubbed the small hallway between the bedroom and living room as well as the approximately 1/3 of the living room on the south end as well as polishing the two DVD shelves with Orange Glow, scrubbing the cat mat with Clorox clean up, washing the cat dishes for dry food, and dusting all the knick-knacks and pictures displayed in front of the DVDs. 

Fed Ex delivered my other two prescriptions.  I was glad to get them as I will have to refill my pill caddy on Saturday.  I am wondering when my next shipment of Trulicity will arrive.  I have three syringes of it left, so I imagine it will be soon.  I just hope I see the delivery truck pull up as the drug can neither freeze nor get warm or it won’t be good.  It is an insanely expensive med, so it would be horrible if it was ruined by being mishandled. 

I took a break to eat a bowl of cornflakes around lunch time and had a bit of a rest in my recliner while holding Peaches and contemplating my plan of “attack” for the cleaning of the rest of the living room, but then Lily called and talked for at least an hour.  She complained about the pain of her sciatic nerve, talked about the luncheon she attended today with thirty or more other older ladies from the Ellendale area at the local diner, and discussed the menu for the dinner party with three of her friends she is planning for tomorrow night.  She is going to make beef stew with dumplings, lime/pear Jell-O salad, a vegetable tray with dip, and left over cake from her Monday night dinner party.  She was fretting about whether the vegetables in the stew were enough or whether she needed a separate vegetable.  I suggested the veggie tray with dip and she thought that was a very good idea.

She will be hosting another dinner party on Monday for her “Hand and Foot” Card Playing group.  For that one, she will serve meatloaf, cooked carrots, some kind of potatoes, as yet unknown, garlic bread, and some kind of dessert, as yet unknown. 

She described at length everyone she had seen and spoken to at the local diner today as well as what was served, how expensive it was, and how the taco salad she had was very good, but the chicken salad sandwiches with a broccoli salad that others got looked dry and tasteless. LOL.  I really did not give a hoot about any of this information, but I listened to her describe it all.

While I was talking to her, my mother tried to call me, but I didn’t pick up.  I figured I would call her back after Lily hung up.  Lily ended up talking for an hour or more.  Then I called my mother, who talked for over an hour and a half.  I was SHOCKED to hear my mother talking about how she had seem Michelle Obama on some talk show.  All through Obama’s presidency, my mother HATED Michelle.  She criticized everything the woman said, wore, and did.  She claimed that she had spent millions of dollars traveling with an entourage of hair dressers, make up artists, and other “servants.”  HOWEVER!  Today, she was talking about how impressed she was with Michelle’s intelligence, the way she discussed her marriage and children, and what a classy lady she was. 

I was hard pressed not to say, “I told you all of this about her YEARS ago, Mother!”  But I restrained myself. 

She talked for over an hour and a half—she was happy because “that bitch” from Rochester whom she had to see before they would authorize more macular degeneration shots could only give her the exam.  Her regular eye doctor could still give her the injection afterwards.  She gave me the dates of her next appointments that I have to take her to, and she promised to fill my gas tank for me, since I will have taken her to four or five appointments in the recent past.  Then she spent a significant amount of time bitching about how terrible my paternal grandmother was and how she never gave our family anything but garbage no one else wanted and how she was “so terrible” to poor Kim….ARG.

I just wanted to be off the phone so I could work on the heavy-duty cleaning of my living room while I still had a shred of energy left. 

By the time I got away (by truthfully declaring my immediate and intense need to visit the bathroom), I knew my motivation and stamina was gone.  I did manage to stir up enough strength to clean the three litterboxes in the breezeway and sweep the floor.  Then I went into the kitchen where I heated up the last of the mixed vegetables I had cooked a couple of days ago and the last two hot dogs.  While those things were cooking, I unloaded the dish drainer and washed the large sinkful of dishes.  It had been two days since I washed dishes, so there were a few piled up. 

Sawyer, one of my boy kitties, is having an issue with a dirty butt.  He was bugging me while I was trying to do dishes, so I wet a wad of paper towel with warm water and attempted to give his posterior a good cleaning.  He was not pleased and fought it valiantly, but he kept coming back near me, so I persisted in trying to make him more presentable.  I was not able to achieve perfect cleanliness, but it does look SO MUCH better than it did.  He did not hold my unwanted familiarity against me, so I am assuming it felt a lot better once it was cleaner.  I knew he wasn’t holding a grudge because he kept rubbing against my legs and head butting me.  So I gave him lots of love.  He is a good boy. 

I am hoping that I can finish the living room tomorrow.  I think I can do it.  I had hoped to also clean the bathroom tomorrow, but I do not think I can get both completely done.  The kitchen is still not completely done either.

 

Now, for something completely random:  I had another one of my highly detailed and strange dreams last night.  In living color.

I dreamed I was riding the red Schwinn bicycle with the two large baskets on the back that was my sole means of transportation when I was in college.  In the baskets were a brand new, astonishingly lovely American Girl doll wearing a fabulous outfit and the reproduction vintage to-scale decorative plate that she came with.  The plate had a beautiful painting of purple flowers on it.  I don’t know what kind of flowers they were, but they were not violets or lilacs.  They were stemmed and had a ribbon around the stems, a very pretty, elegant little nosegay of blossoms. 

I parked my bicycle in my (paternal) grandmother’s driveway, then walked around the house and entered via the front door.  I could not find the little plate, and I was so sad!  I figured it must have slipped out of the basket somehow while I was riding my bike to my grandma’s house.  The doll had ridden nicely in the basket and was fine.  I brought her into the house with me.  No one was home at grandma’s house.  I was looking out the north-facing window in the living room and saw two youngsters wander up grandma’s driveway and poke around by my bike.  Then I saw the little girl hold up the plate and show it to the little boy excitedly. 

I thought, “Oh shit!  She found my plate and she’s going to take it!”

So I went out the front door and walked around the side of the house, calling, “Oh!  You found my plate!  Thank you so much!” 

She had the most crestfallen look on her face when she realized that she didn’t get to keep the plate.  The children were obviously siblings—they looked very similar.  Both had big brown eyes and brown hair.  Their skin tone was sort of olive, and they both had their hair fairly short with bangs.  The girl was very talkative, but the boy was quiet and a little smaller.  They looked like twins to me, but the boy might have been slightly younger. 

As often happens in dreams, I suddenly had two sets of Superman sweats.  Actually, I suppose one was Supergirl as it had a skirt over the leggings.  No idea why I would have these things or how they had suddenly appeared in my possession.  The girl immediately put her set on, but the boy hung back.

I had a weird vibe from him—as if he had been disappointed and fucked over in life so many times that he had no trust in anyone or anything.  He looked sad, fearful, and anxious.  I asked him if he wanted to put on the Superman outfit, and he just looked at me distrustfully.  The girl said, “Yes!  He wants them!” and began trying to yank his sweat shirt off his head.  His ears were sort of stuck on the neck opening, and I said, “Oh, dear.  Let me help you get that off.  We don’t want his ears to get ripped off.”  I stretched the neck opening wider so it went over his head easier. 

When he was fully dressed in his Superman outfit, his sad little eyes seemed to light up and glow with a bit of unfamiliar joy.  It made me want to cry.

I know there was more to this dream, but I cannot remember any of the rest of it.