I don't think I'll ever get over the delicious feeling of having provisions stored up, tools and environment tended to, all beings in my care relaxed and smiling.
I had sessions scheduled for today and all three of them either cancelled or postponed. It's the first Saturday I've had off in a long, long time. I slept in late, til kitties biting my toes and licking my eyelids drove me from bed at 7:45. I drank coffee and wrote emails to friends and clients and chased kitties around for a couple of hours. Then I made things right in my kingdom.
Did a mound of dishes. Cleaned the apartment top to bottom. Did laundry. Turned the mattress and changed the sheets. The latter took a half hour because the changing of the sheets brings all kitties running, to dive under the fitted sheet, trapped and tickled by The Hand Monster, kitties all jumping on and around each other as the light summer blanket comes down, then up, then down, then up, me pretending that I need to just lift and float it down one more time to get it on straight, but really, you know it's just to see the kitties scoot and scramble just one more time.
Then out into the world. . .
A check! In my mailbox! From the cancer insurance folks! Which paid off all my medical bills. In full. Even the most recent digestive related ones. Al*state: you suck, but in this moment, you rock, you really do.
Car gassed up, put in a quart of oil, wiper fluid. To the grocery store for the things I can't/don't get at the coop (litter and tp and some of the more seriously on sale or stuffs/veggies/fruits that just look dang good.)
To the library to take back the Bryson's bio on Shakespeare, a non-fic about what would happen to the earth if humans vanished, some novels that I read a few pages of then closed, uninterested in. And to pick up more novels to take a whirl at, including Daniel Suarez's Freedom, the sequel to Daemon, which although not as well written, is just as freakin prescient as William Gibson, and which I can't dang skippy to wait to dive into.
Next stop: Tidal Creek Coop, where I dropped a cool $140, and bought organic and mostly local fruit and veg, enough kitty food to last for the next couple of weeks, mineral bath salts for detoxing, salt for the neti pot, coconut milk for coffee, and cowgirl ranch dressing to spice up the homemade vinaigrette I make, red chili powder to spice up the Crazy Wok N Roll I've been indulging in, and sprouts and local goat cheese and millet bread, and local eggs in hues of green, brown and speckled white, and gluten free poppy seed lemon cake and vanilla ice cream because really, just plain yum.
And fruit juice sweetened lemonade, which I am drinking now with apple favored vodka, because it's 2:30pm, and why the heck not?
I love being single. I love being crazy. I love not shaving my armpits. I love working in Hiveworld with my Hilarious Coworker and various crazy/wonderful/crabby/big-hearted Cubicleland folks. I Love hanging out with the neurotic and elegant and very very pink Baby Wallace. And the delectably sweet, fiesty, tiny fanged wonder that is Emmaline. And the big, impossibly-soft-n-fluffy hunk of testosterone that is Dastardly Malcolm. And the licky, puffy, squealy, Yes that is Jacinta, our beloved Granny Thug, the All-Star Gangsta Granny we all love and adore.
Life is good. So very good. May this find you deep inside your Yes . . . your demons starved into silence, the beings around you loving you in all your sweet, f*cked up glory, and the plant world sharing their grainery/greenery love with you, all to rights in your own kingdom . . .
Party on . . . you are loved . . .