aqua seafoam shame
LISTEN UP
Lately I have been in some weird twilight zone where people respond to things I did not say, or miss my point entirely, or otherwise FAIL at communication in a big way.
1. I sent out a notice at work that used the phrase “through the end of the year” and someone took the time to put fingertips to e-mail client and ask me if I meant 2011 or 2012. I know monthly publishing is wacky, and in my brain it has been 2012 for a while now that we are deep into January issues, but come on. “The” year. That’s this year. *snaps fingers in front of your face* Wake up!
2. A new coworker had pictures of a very cute baby up on her cube wall.
Me: Aw! Is that your baby?
New Coworker [shocked, maybe even a bit offended]: NO! God no! That’s my nephew. I’m not even married!
Me: Well, uh, babies don’t come from wedding rings, you know. Anyway, your nephew is cute!
3. This time it was my turn to be obtuse.
Nora: You can’t really tell if a baby is a boy or a girl, sometimes.
Me: Yeah, babies mostly look alike. Unless their parents have dressed them in a very “boy” or “girl” way.
Nora: It’s a little easier with kids, and mostly really easy with grownups.
Me [still thinking about gendered fashion]: True…men’s and women’s clothes are mostly pretty different…even for standard things like pants and jeans…
Nora [giving me the “you’re an idiot” look]: No. BREASTS.
Me: Oh yeah, breasts. I forgot about breasts.
3. The same delightful child is making me crazy, though, with a horrid new habit: if I say, ever-so-mildly, “Nora, please don’t [fill in the blank],” she often responds with “I’m not trying to” or “I didn’t do it on purpose.” Hey freak, where did I bring up the question of intent? You are doing a thing, I want you to stop, whether or not you meant to do it is not the issue at hand.
Anyway, sometimes it’s a good thing she’s cute. And happy adoption day to us! Eight years ago she looked like this:
And then she came to our house and got happier and looked like this:
And now she looks like this:
I liked and loved Nora right away, even on the first day with her runny nose and her mosquito bites and her bewildered expression. But I had no idea how cool she would turn out to be. Yay.
CATS HID MY WALLET
I worked from home all day yesterday and it might be good that I don’t do that full-time. Because when I work from home I talk to the cats just a little too much. I like to get into mock fights with them. I like to walk in the kitchen and say, Fuck you, Rocko. Are you just going to sleep on the couch all day? Huh? When are you going to be a man? Get a job. Go back to school. Do SOMETHING. Because you sure are not going to live under my roof and eat my food and poop in that box that I bought with my hard-earned money for much longer. It’s time to learn the meaning of maturity, shitbag.
Lola I am not quite so hard on, perhaps because she is more scarce during the day and is usually hanging out in Nora’s room upstairs. If the cats are together, I like to speak to them as a duo, usually with the Midwestern form of group address known as “guys,” and always with a fake sense of excited urgency. Guys! Guys! Guys! Guess what? I’m going to make a sandwich! And go to Target! And then come back and work on preparing this goddamn report while answering a bunch of bullshit emails!
A good thing about working from home is that you can sneak away and run quick little errands, like going to Target, which saves time. Unless you are me and get a full cart of Target supplies, and then realize you have forgotten your wallet just before getting in line to pay. I suppose it could have been worse, as I could have unloaded everything and then realized that I had no wallet when it came time to pay. Pay with what? My good looks? My priceless advice? Sexual favors? (Oh please no. Those red polo shirts are not my jam.) A Target dude put my cart aside while I sped home just long enough to turn off the alarm, insult the cats, get my wallet, turn the alarm back on, and drive back to stupid Target. Oh hey Working-From-Home Mimi, why did it take you so long to answer my bullshit email? BECAUSE TARGET.
Speaking of cats, I had a very detailed dream that I gave one to the state of Iowa. I went to an animal shelter, very carefully picked out a cat, and drove to Iowa to present it to the governor at some ceremony. There were many staged photographs of me handing over the cat (a standard-issue gray striped thing) to Governor Branstad at the state capitol in Des Moines, and I was presented with some kind of key to the state, a thing which I do not even think exists. And although the recounting of this dream is not very interesting, except the puzzle of what prompted my generous dreamtime cat donation (a shortage of Iowa cats? or was this some special symbolic cat?), it is interesting that one can be awarded a key to the city, but apparently not a key to the state. No key big enough, I guess.
—mimi smartypants liked it, should have put a ring on it.