It’s a hot muggy Sunday afternoon. I’m here with Mr. B — not the character from Sex and the City, although I always liked that character and wouldn’t mind sitting here with him — but a very cool ginger cat. I’m hanging out with him for the afternoon. My plan was to come over here and write this blog since I wasn’t doing such a productive job of it at home. It’s all because of lost sleep over what happened yesterday. I’m still upset — not terribly but a little around the edges. I thought the whole thing was settled and then it’s ugly little head rose up again and I fell into a mini-slump about the whole thing. That’s when I decided that if I was going to get anything written today, I’d better leave home and go someplace where I didn’t have internet.
I’m cat sitting for Mr. B who is also unhappy. He wants to go outside and I won’t let him. He’s by the kitchen door calling me all kinds of not-very-nice-cat-bad-names. I told him I could understand them because Rose uses some of the same ones. It’s hard to ignore him because he’s whining and is very pissed off. HIs owner and I have an agreement that while I’m here taking care of him this indoor-outdoor cat would be exclusively in the house. Mr. B interrupted his whining to tell me that he did not sign any such agreement. Maybe a few Temptations would lure him away from the door and into more productive work like helping me write this blog. He’s on the table now, cleaning his privates as a sign of just what he thinks of me. In between licks, he suggested that since I’ve been asking him to chill out that I do the same. He proposed that I could blow more of his catnip bubbles and maybe even chase them around the floor like he did. Yes, folks, this cat owner has bought bubbles for Mr. B. I know that if I see them, I’ll have to buy some for Rose and Nick. Although, unlike Mr. B., I suspect they’ll just give me one of their, looks. They can be very disdainful sometimes and with how I’m feeling today I think it might just make me cry.
I should say right up front that I am totally innocent of the accusations that have been made against me in the last couple of days. Does that sound too defensive? M accused me of being so which I denied even though I most certainly and vehemently was being defensive when she called me out on it. Do confident, egotistical people get defensive too. They must, eh? How else does one operate in this world of ours? Don’t you need good defense in order for the offense to do their job? But, I do think I was being a tad dramatic and very unattractive when I was huffing and puffing about my righteousness on this particular issue.
I’m not going to tell you what it is, so don’t even try to pry it out of me. I will say it had to do with something I wrote. It wasn’t even a whole lot of something, just 17 words — ten plus seven, not even 20 — that one(1) person took offense about and has just stirred up a lot of bad feelings and work for a handful of other folks. It doesn’t help me curb my defensive attitude about this particular person because he has, in the not so distant past, pushed my buttons, rang my bells, questioned my integrity and just plainly got on the wrong side of me.
Well, well, well, as someone used to say to me, “There are big things and little things and Ohio State football is a little thing.” Mr. B. just groaned as I read that last line outloud. I’m not sure what those particular words of wisdom have to do with this particular kerfuffle but they just came out of my sleepy brain, into my fingers and onto this page. Perhaps, I’m equating those seventeen words with the insignificance of the outcome of a football game. It will all come out in the wash — which is sitting in my washing machine at home waiting to be turned on.
Mr. B is back at the door whining about his own cruel treatment or is he stringing me along in the hopes that he’ll get more treats? Cats always win.