It is really humid & close every day & night; with the windows open, I can smell the roses from where I am in bed every morning. Smelling those roses inside my house makes me feel like the luckiest girl in the world. It almost makes up for them taking over the house, the constant pruning, the lovesick Lithuanians using any way in.
Our new pretend cat loves them, here on the side porch.
"A what?" Fox asked. He had been away for a couple of weeks & reached out for the haps.
"It's a real cat," Fille said, sweetly-corrective. "It's our pretend pet. We won't touch him or let him in."
He just showed up last week, on Thursday, I think. He is quite bossy about trying to get into our house. I demur, politely -- It's not you, it's us. We had cats. We are finished now. No hard feelings. -- and then spray him with water.
He is covered in fleas. I just can't even with the cat. I feel like the cat is some test, and while I could well be conflating, I mean, you know. He is probably just a cat-test. I was feeling like someone had to buckle him into their car & take him to the TNR place, but then I was reading the collateral & remembered how crazy those cat people are & no. No one should touch one finger to that animal for they will surely be mired & stuck fast to the La Brea Tar Pits of Cat-Lovin' Insanity. Cat Luvvers have perfected the thing where the Perfect is the Al Qaeda to the Good. God Almighty.
Mr Cat is perfectly welcome to lie on our un-upholstered bench outdoors until such time as he moves on, maybe to Heaven. Everyone is feeding him, so that. I think it behooves us to give him a dose of Frontline, in the interest of not harboring an infestation. It is pretty hot out already.
I feel as though Memorial Day weekend is a lit-tle soon to start with Crumpled-Up Pool Boy look book, but I have to get a new drivers' license this week, so hussy it is!! Tramped up in the service of being able to nip in whenever there is time!
Because you asked -- you and you -- yes, Kowalski is all over the place. He is like the Second Book of Psalms, depending on the day, because the rest of the time it's a different kind of infuriating since yk, Ruth married Boaz. She didn't stay in Naomi's grill being resentful about following her to Bethlehem of Judah, did she? No.
You know what's weird about The Book of Ruth? In the beginning, Naomi says, yk, "No, stay in Moab because there are no brothers-in-law back home for you," right? But at least two agents of family patrimony, one Boaz, were just hanging out & could avail themselves of Elimelech's estate. So maybe she didn't know, but I have never seen this addressed in any comprehensive reference materials. Ok.
Speaking of tarty dressing & the religion & the people strewing the rose petals at one's feet, which I just was, I have been catching up on Weeds while I sulkily do paperwork in the evenings. I have to steel myself for when Mari finds out Nancy Botwin gets the rabbi, because I might never hear the end of that. Really, ok now, je demeure xo