This about sums it up

If your reaction to my last post was "TL;DR", then here's the Sparknotes version:

This was not a Halloween costume. This was this morning.

I am officially a crazy cat lady.

Funny story about that...

I used to change the blog's tagline periodically, every time I thought of something funnier (to me) than what was up there. But for a long time now, it's been "Like a crazy cat lady, minus the cats."

Well.

Funny story about that.

I have five cats now.

It is all James's fault, of course, because until we got married and he moved in, I did not have any cats. Of course, he only brought the one cat with him; the remaining four were kind of a joint effort but really mostly my fault.

Seriously, Hobbes is adorable. Wanna rub his belly?

But let me start at the beginning. When James was living in his bachelor pad, he shared the house with his landlord's cat, while the landlord was in Texas. Sunshine (also called Gurndy, for reasons unknown), was a big bad orange lady, a mostly outdoor cat, and at sixteen years old, definitely the Grand Dame of the neighborhood. When the landlord returned to bring her back to Texas with him, James decided, hey, he really liked having a cat. So in February, we went to the animal shelter and returned with an eight-month-old orange tabby. His "pound name" was Kevin, but James immediately renamed him Hobbes. He is not a Kevin, but he is such a Hobbes.

So in May, we got married and Hobbes and James moved in. I have always been a dog person, but I like Hobbes. He is a playful, charming cat who loves belly rubs, playing with twist ties, and napping. He's also adorable. If all cats are like Hobbes, then yes, I love cats.

Yes, she has perma-bitchface, but she's a great cuddler.

So when one of my co-workers sent around a picture of a sweet gray-and-white kitty she found in her alley, we (but mostly me) decided that a second cat was the best idea ever. Hobbes could have a playmate while we were at work. One cat was easy, so two cats would be easy too, right?

Of course right!

So we adopted the gray-and-white lady, named her Zoe, and immediately found out that while Hobbes loves her, she hates Hobbes. Hates. Awesome. So we worked on keeping them segregated and introducing them slowly (no small feat in a one-bedroom apartment!) and prayed for better days ahead.

Then we realized that Zoe was pregnant.* What the shit. We did a little denial dance for awhile, but when you're petting a cat and you can feel the kittens moving around inside her, it's hard to stay in denial. We weighed the options (keep the kittens? pregnant spay? keep the kittens? pregnant spay?), but before we reached a really final decision, she trumped us all and gave birth on everyone's favorite living room chair.

Of course she did. She's a cat.

OMG. OMG. OMG. OMG. OMG.

Have you ever seen teeny-tiny day old kittens? They are MIND-BLOWING with their cuteness. They fit in the palm of your hand! They look more like guinea pigs than cats, and since they're not very mobile yet and they can't quite meow, they mostly just wriggle around and squeak, and you guys, there are not words in any language for how cute they are.

So... two adult cats + three kittens = full-on, undeniable crazy cat lady status.

The kittens are now seven weeks old, still MIND-BLOWING with their cuteness, and, alas, soon to be dispatched to their new homes. They romp and play, still aren't quite big enough to make real meows, and they drive Zoe crazy. Every so often she'll look at me all wide-eyed, like "Can't you do something about this?" Mama, if you can't, then I definitely can't.

She still doesn't get along with Hobbes, and we're still not sure what we're going to do about that. Once the kittens are gone, that might help. Once she's spayed, that might help. Or...maybe she'll just keep on keepin' on, and hate him forever. Maybe we'll find her a nice place where she can be the only cat, and keep the third kitten to be friends with Hobbes? I don't know.

But there it is: I am a crazy cat lady. Full stop. Life's weird.


Singing along to: The Weepies, Be My Thrill

Ten on Tuesday: "Working Hard for the Money" Edition

I borrowed this from Erin at Down the Rabbit Hole. I know, I know, first post in months and it's a quiz. Oops?

1. What do you do for a living?
I’m an "archive assistant" at a DC museum, processing a large new collection. There's a lot of stuff in boxes, which I'm unpacking, cataloging, photographing, labeling, and sorting. If I were a superhero, I'd be CataloGirl: by day, I'm a mild-mannered contract employee, but by night, I fight for truth, justice, and item-level location tracking!

2. What’s your favorite thing about your job?
I love my co-workers, I love the actual building in which I work (art storage warehouse), and I love the behind-the-scenes look at the inner workings of a museum.

3. What’s your least favorite thing about your job?
The tedium. Look, I have the right personality for this job--if I weren't doing this, I'd be a librarian*--but cataloging is not a barrel of non-stop thrills. The collection I'm working on is very quirky, and that helps, but some days are a drag.


4. If you weren’t a ____________, what would you be?
Easy. I wrote a blog post about this once. My number one answer, realistically, is probably a copy editor. Sweet fancy Moses, that makes me boring. But I would be really, really good at it! That makes it less boring, right?

5. What is something that you would love to get paid for that you think no one would ever pay you for?
Reading? Writing? Crocheting? Sitting on my patio drinking coffee? Taking gratuitous naps? So many possibilities, so few willing sponsors...

6. If you could have any job for exactly one day, what would it be?
Professional driver on closed course. No question! I could drive really fast in fancy cars on windy mountain roads and it would all be totally legal and sanctioned and also badass. (I would say astronaut but only if I were in space, but realistically, I know I'd be puking my guts out the entire time, and the stars would be wasted on me.)


7. If you had to do manual labor, what would you do?
If we're willing to qualify "art handler" as manual labor, than that, in a heartbeat. Heck, I'd do that even if I didn't "have to." Wrangling art, loading trucks, playing with crates? Rigging? Sign me up! But first I'd need to get more piercings and tattoos; I am way too clean-cut for that job right now.

8. What is something you were forced to learn in high school that was supposed to be super important, but you never actually use?
Oh goodness, almost all of it. Especially the math. And although this was in college and not high school: LATIN. Oh, Latin. Everyone was all "Oh, Latin! Latin's so helpful! You'll love Latin! Latin is the greatest!" I got a 750** on the language portion of my SATs without having taken Latin, guys, and it hasn't done much for me since then, except to use up way too many of my precious college electives. I do not love Latin. Latin is not the greatest.

9. Who was your favorite boss? Why?
Actually, I've been pretty lucky with bosses so far. My boss from the catering company did the flowers for our wedding. My first boss at the museum (when I was an intern/volunteer) introduced me to beer and taught me to harness my Jedi powers. My current boss is pretty cool, too. But my favorite so far might be my first boss: Becky at the catering company. I never would have stayed there that long if not for her. She rocks.

10. Where would you rather work: Dunder Mifflin Paper Company (The Office), Wernham Hogg Paper Company (The Office, UK), or Initech (Office Space)?
I'm keeping Erin's answer here: If I work at Initech do I get to dispose of my old office equipment myself?

*Actually, I pretty much AM a librarian, except with art and archival material instead of books.
**This was back when there were only two sections, each graded out of 800. Because I'm old.

Singing along to: The Imagined Village, Space Girl

Space girls!

I have been seriously digging this song and this video lately. A great tune AND a montage of the Ladies of Science Fiction? Yes please!

Well.

I wore this expression all day. (Photo by Annabelle Dando Photography)

When I left you last, I was very concerned about earrings, because I was about to get married, and those were the Most Important Earrings In the History of Jewelry. It's funny, the things I thought I would care about for the wedding, and the things I actually ended up caring about.

I thought I would care deeply about the state of my nails, and maybe the wedding would be my motivation to finally stop picking at them and for once in my life have the nicely-manicured hands of a grown-up, and not a nervous fifteen-year-old. This did not happen. The stress made my cuticle-picking habit worse than ever, and as a consequence I said my vows with several bandaids on my fingers, with stubby fingernails, which I'd inexpertly painted myself, sitting on the kitchen floor the day before the wedding. And I didn't care at all.

I thought I would care about whitening my teeth, and I did get as far as clipping Crest White-strips coupons from the newspaper...but I never actually used them. When it came down to it, I could not summon even a single ounce of concern for the appearance of my teeth. I mean, they're just teeth, right?

We got married at the beginning of May, and I haven't been to the gym since November at best. I thought I would care...but I didn't. And I still rocked the dress.


I thought I would care about fancy table numbers (I was going to embroider them, oh yes I was), I thought I would care about the cake, I thought I would care about pretty placecards, and why wouldn't I? I am a detail person--often I can't see the forest for the leaves--and I like to make nice things.

But I didn't.

And it was still the best party of my life. I threw dignity to the wind and danced with all my friends and my shiny new husband, and I drank a lot of champagne, and I hugged a lot of people, and I cried during the toasts, and I smiled until my face hurt, and oh, you guys, it was the best. Being married is the best.

Singing along to: Gregory Alan Isakov, "John Brown's Body"

The most important earrings in the history of jewelry

So here's the thing: I am decisive in inverse proportion to the importance of the decision. This has never been more evident than during the wedding planning.


Picking a venue? Super-easy.
Picking a photographer? No sweat.
Picking a wedding ring? Mildly stressful, but once I psyched myself up to spend the money, it was a done deal.
Picking earrings to wear? IF I PICK THE WRONG ONES THE WORLD WILL END.

I finally ordered some, and so far no apocalypse, but y'all, I have been browsing Etsy for weeks looking at earrings. WEEKS. I spent more time weighing my earrings options than I did weighing my dress options.

And by the way, lest you think this is some bridezilla thing and further proof that weddings in America are out of control, then I invite you to come to Target with me and witness my terrible agonies in the paper towel aisle.

Singing along to: Iron & Wine, Promising Light

I want to watch this all day...

...and then re-organize my bookshelves.

Seriously, is this the awesomest, or what? I LOVE the Internet.

This happens every time

"Mo' money, mo' problems" is not something I find myself saying a lot, because, frankly, I have yet to experience "mo' money." I mean, I do okay, you know, which right now means "not going into debt, but also not saving nearly as much as I'd like." Yes, I have an emergency fund. No, I do not have anything resembling retirement savings. (Yes, I know that's bad.) I actually cried a little bit when I did my taxes. (Nope, no refund. Being a contractor is so awesome, you guys! Thanks to the self-employment tax, I can PAY FOR THE PRIVILEGE of not having any benefits of any kind, ever.)

ANYHOW.

My point is, I am doing just well enough that when a little bit of "found money" comes into my life, I can reasonably teeter between "spend it on something sensible, like groceries" and "spend it on something fun, like gray patent leather Sperry Top-Siders."* Part of me thinks I deserve a bit of a reward for spending the past two and a half months eating beans and rice, with the thermostat set at 60 degrees. The other part of me keeps reminding me that there's a reason I've been doing that, and further more I'm just now getting to a place where a) my lifestyle is sustainable and b) I'm getting used to the frugality, so why kill the streak now?

For reference, the "found money" is a $100 Visa gift card I got for finding a new apartment via Rent.com. I could do a lot of things with $100. I could buy three weeks' worth of groceries. I could buy a sewing machine and one or two "learn to sew books." I could buy the necessities for the dog I'm adopting on Friday.** I could buy the aforementioned shoes. Point is, I could go back and forth on this for weeks, because boy, there are a lot of things you can do with $100! And pretty much all of them are justifiable, at least a little bit!

So come on, Internet. You excel at giving advice, solicited or not. Tell me what I should do.

--

*No, I'm never been a boat shoes kind of girl before, but they're gray! and shiny! Other than the price tag, what's not to love?

**YAY

Singing along to: Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros, Home