It's My Party!

So, I am currently bedridden. Why? Yesterday morning I tripped over a cat toy in the kitchen, fell, and twisted my foot in a direction I am pretty sure the laws of physics and nature never intended. I heard a snapping sound but the pain didn't start until a few moments later. At first I thought I was okay. I managed to drag myself and my twisted foot into the the living room and began to sob. My son came rushing in from his bedroom and found me in a heap on the floor unable to speak. I just kept pointing at my foot.

I am very upset this has happened to me.  I am cursing everything: my foot, the cat, all his toys, anyone who offers to help me, and life in general. I had a very important meeting scheduled yesterday for an awesome job opportunity. I had already started putting all my eggs in one basket concerning the offer and now there was no way in hell I was going to make it into the office with my stupid foot. How was I supposed to get into the shower, get dressed up and drive to Huntington?  I could barely stand let alone squeeze my throbbing, swollen foot into a shoe.  I had intended on wearing my favorite faux-alligator pumps. They're super classy with sensible heels, but not too sensible. Just right.  Now everything was ruined. The job opportunity- most likely gone forever. I have a feeling I am going to be out of commission for quite some time.


I suppose I could have kept the appointment anyway. They would have been impressed with my tenacity had I just sucked it up and hopped into the meeting on one foot. I have a pair of neon pink, faux-fur lined clogs and because they are so wide and roomy, I was able slip my aching foot into one of those without screaming in pain. Then I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and how utterly ridiculous I looked. The sharp, shooting pains in my foot were also causing my face to contort in the most unusual ways. I decided to call and cancel the appointment.

I was hoping that by some miracle I would wake up this morning and the pain would be gone. No such luck. It still hurts. Badly. I have my foot elevated and I am applying ice packs to the area every twenty minutes. This is keeping the swelling down to a minimum but there is still no way I can stand on it or walk.  This really sucks!!

I must confess I am the worst patient ever. I am stubborn, irritable and nasty right now. I don't like being dependent on anyone and I am trying to do everything myself. I've set up camp on the couch with the remote control and the lap top and I am already bored out of my skull. I've decided to drastically reduce my consumption of  liquids because it takes me about fifteen minutes to get the bathroom. It's hysterical really and I am thankful my son is here. I managed slip on my clogs and hop into the kitchen this morning to brew a pot of coffee. I am actually pretty good at balancing on one foot (thank you, yoga) but I couldn't figure out how to hop back to the couch, coffee in hand, without spilling it all over myself. Believe me, I tried.  After he cleaned up the big mess I made, my son served me my coffee. That was awfully nice of him but in a few hours he will be leaving for work and will be gone the entire weekend. I will be left to my own devices and he will probably return home to find me passed out on the couch in my stupid pink clogs; dehydrated and starved half to death. I was supposed to go grocery shopping yesterday but obviously that didn't happen. Oh well. I wanted to lose a couple of pounds anyway.

All my plans for this weekend- shot. I had intended to drive to Brooklyn on Friday and then spend Saturday and Sunday at my sister's cabin up in the mountains. There's no way that's gonna happen now.  I will be a couch potato, against my will.  So not my style. Thank God for Netflix. Maybe, just maybe, I can get my web cam to work correctly so I can participate in a few Google+ Hangouts.  I love on-line shopping and maxing out all my credit cards by ordering stuff I don't need sounds like fun.  It's probably not the best idea, though, being that my current condition means I am not really earning much money. Luckily, my wallet is in a different room and I can't bear the thought of hopping all the way to the other end of house to retrieve it. My credit rating is safe, for now, but I'd better figure out some ways to use this down-time productively or I will go insane.

What have I learned from this? Nothing.  I am sure I'll eventually have some brilliant epiphany to share, but right now, I am just feeling sorry for myself.  And you know what? I think that's okay.  I should be allowed have my own little pity party now and then.  I am usually very hard on myself.  I rarely give myself permission to cry, complain, whine or ask for help.  Maybe that's the lesson I am supposed to learn.  I'll let you know.

For now, this is the shoe that fits and I'm wearing it..........

A Little Cat Poop Dilemma

My darling, beloved cat got locked in my son's bedroom today. The cat loves his room and cannot resist sneaking in because of all the fun stuff in there like tools, string, nuts and bolts, little bottles and jars, and a big box of 100,000 Q-Tips. Why my child doesn't store his things away in drawers and cabinets is beyond me. The cat never gets into my stuff because I PUT IT ALL AWAY!

 I worked hard all day today, had a flat tire on the way home, and when I walked in the door all I wanted was to slip on my cozy faux-fur lined slippers and chill with a glass of wine. My feet were killing me. Instead I was greeted by a very irate 22 year old child and one cowering kitty. The cat and the boy had a bit of an episode while I was away.

Apparently, while trapped in the bedroom, nature called and the poor cat had no choice but to do his business on top of a pair of skivvies left on the floor. The moment I walked in the door tonight, my son began  screaming that the cat is forbidden to enter his room again.  If it ever does happen again, the damn cat is getting a fucking spanking. He's tired of my sweet little pet sleeping on his bed and shedding all over, knocking keys, bottles and jars off the dresser, and rearranging and losing things.  And the Q-Tips. They're everywhere. He swears the cat takes bites out his sandwiches when he isn't looking and probably drinks from his glass too. Today my son had to clean up a couple of pieces of hard, crusty cat poop.  He showed them to me. Okay, it was gross, but honestly, I couldn't stop laughing. My laughter and nonchalant attitude about all this made my son even angrier.

First of all, son, you just moved back in after being away from almost three years. I was so lonely, eventually I got the cat to replace you.  As far as the cat is concerned, he was here first and you are his guest. Your room is not your room.  It belongs to the cat. That's where he used to hang before you got here because it happens to get more sunlight than any other room in the house. Now it's cluttered with all sorts of interesting stuff. Cats are curious and he needs to know what you've got in there. Every day you walk in with a bag or a box and he can't stand the suspense. You can't close or lock your bedroom door when you leave because you never know if the cat is in there or not. In fact, before your arrival, I never closed any doors; not even the bathroom. That great big door that leads to the outside world is the only one that was ever closed.  He's been out there only once in his entire life and he hated it.  He really has no interest in venturing out there again.  So just deal with the fact that every room in the house belongs to the cat. We are both just guests here.  I have no problem with this at all.  

Secondly, food belongs in the kitchen. It should be eaten in the kitchen. Don't leave half-eaten sandwiches in your room. Don't leave a glass of water, milk, juice or any other liquid in there either because I can pretty much guarantee the cat will help himself to a few sips in your absence. I don't condone or encourage the cat to consume people food or beverages, but then again, everything in this house belongs to the cat. This includes food and drinks. He shares it all with us.

Third: skivvies belong in the laundry basket, not tossed on the floor. That huge pile of dirty laundry in the corner next to the empty laundry basket is the perfect spot for the cat to hide out in so you don't know he's there.  He knows you really don't like him and he wants to punish you for not dancing around the house with him and repeatedly kissing him on the mouth like I do. He does this by rearranging all your stuff and then letting you know he was there by rolling his body all over your clothes and blankets.  He's simply reminding you that he is the baby and he was here first. He then waits for you to fall asleep and just wants to be near a nice warm body.  Since you give off much more body heat than I do, he snuggles up beside you at night in the bed he lets you sleep in.
 

Sorry you had to clean up kitty poop, but at least the cat was thoughtful enough to deposit it right on top of your underwear and not in the bed or on the brand new carpet. It's not his fault, it's yours for the closing the door behind you when you left. And for the record, I cleaned up your mess for years and I still do. I also worked all day today cleaning up patients who are no longer able to clean themselves. So cry me a river.

And last, but not least, I know you would never hit my cat, but if an accidental cat poop is too much for you to handle, the cat and I will gladly pack your bags and then we can return to our fancy-free lives and open door policy. I can once again walk around the house in my bra and panties.  I won't have prepare meals for anyone. The cat is easy. As long as I serve him a can of cat food promptly at 5PM every evening; he's happy. I was perfectly content with soup or salad for dinner and now I have to cook things like turkey, roast chicken and pot roast. After dinner, the cat and I can resume the pleasure of snuggling together on the couch to watch Animal Planet just like we used to before you took over the entire living room and the television.

You've upset the balance of our perfect little life here............

Honestly, I love you, my son and I love having you here. I know the cat loves you, too.  He follows you around when you're here and waits in your bedroom when you're gone.  In fact, while you're at work right now, he's in your bed, shedding his cat hair all over the pillow he lets you use. But don't worry. The bedroom door is wide open should he have the sudden urge to, well..... you know.