Of A Sunday

First there was Easter. Easter went reasonably well. Actually, all but one of the Four Conditions For A Happy Holiday were met. Ma Protosaur, aka my mother, wound up in the ER after breaking a bone in her hand at our house in the wee hours of Good Friday. This did not prevent her or us* from traveling to West Virginia to visit my grandfather or from enjoying Easter Dinner at my sister’s house.

This week got off to a weak start. I’ve never been allergy-prone, but whatever was blooming Monday last affected me like the poppy field in “Wizard of Oz.” I think I slept for a total of 24 hours or so between mid-afternoon Monday and Wednesday morning.

Yesterday I switched out my cold-weather wardrobe for my warm-weather wardrobe and scoured the floor of our basement cold room. Our elderly housecat recently decided that certain concrete surfaces of the cold room floor are preferable to her litter box and its eco-friendly mix of pine, cedar, and corn litter. Three hours and an extra litter box with conventional litter later, she reconsidered. Thus my home looks like hell today, but it smells a lot better. Recommendations for eco-friendly litter that feels like kitty qwik-crete would be most welcome.

* One of the reasons that the Dino Marriage has survived this long (17 years in May) is the fact that we stopped undertaking long-distance family travel together in year seven or so. We do not function well in tandem when in close quarters, physical discomfort, and the presence of kids and extended family. So I travel with the Dino Kids solo, and he stays behind lest Babushka require his support.

Today I will ridding Mouse’s room of all the clothes that don’t fit her or fit her a little too well for my comfort. Oh, my blooming Mouse! She shot up two shoe sizes a week or so ago (now rocking a women’s size 10 shoe at the majestic 11 year-old height of 5’4″) and went shopping in her aunt’s closet last week with great delight. She will probably find herself with a whole bunch of new drawer space by day’s end.  I am still holding out hope that she did not inherit the giant freak feet that plague me, her uncle, and her cousin, but so far the signs are not super-encouraging.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s