Last night, Julie and Cleo dumped feeding the cats on me this morning. Again. They announced that they were going to a New Year's Eve party at Elaine's, and would be gone for the night. I said fine, and after they left, I went and had some dinner. I came home and hunkered down in the Batcave, and went to bed at 10:15.
This morning, I got myself up and went upstairs to find that Simon (one of the cats) was nowhere to be found; only Mia was hovering around me. And, at that very moment that I was noticing this, Julie called. She had forgotten all about the milk delivery, so she asked me to put the cooler out. I told her that I couldn't find Simon, and although I didn't want her to panic, I wanted to let her know. She offered to buy my dinner on Sunday, when we are going to Ruby Tuesday for the salad bar.
After feeding the cats and getting the cooler out, I was running very late, and dropped an English muffin, landing margarine on my pants. Since I didn't have time to change, I just sponged it off with some water, and went to work with a grease stain on my crotch.
I'm glad that there was no traffic (no one had sobered up yet, I guess), so I was able to read the paper and get my walking out of the way before heading to work. I'm glad my books arrived yesterday, so once I waded through the mountain of paperwork (getting 2009 off my desk once and for all), I had something to read. Julie called me, though, and she didn't know where Simon was hiding this morning, because he was right there when they got home.
I then went to Diane's for pork and sauerkraut for dinner, and now I have arrived at home, and am running one load of laundry before throwing it on hangers, showering, and going to bed. I don't feel that great; last night, my sinuses were clogging up in that special "you're getting a cold" way. Great. And I have six days left until my next day off, and my pariah status will be renewed once again.
Let's hope it gets better than today, no?
Eric Out.
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