The Scot got the day rolling by beginning to puke on the bed at 6:30; with my assistance, he hit the floor before actually getting anything up. Worse than that, though, it appears to be time for the Shakespearean Heroine’s annual attack of gastritis. By 9:30 this morning, I had cleaned up four lots of vomit (from two different cats) and assorted other effluvia, and done two loads of laundry. I have been thinking for awhile that I would like a new yoga mat, but now I really want that new mat. As in, before tomorrow morning. And I just realized that I need to change my shirt. Excuse me a minute.
I wanted to start the first Monday in August with a calm, deliberate approach to my work, and now I’m off-schedule already and feeling rattled. For the mommy bloggers, this would be pretty much a normal day. The academic mommies would go on to send in a couple of grant proposals or polish off an R&R. What is wrong with me that a bit of puke and poop knock me off my game so fast?
In my own defense, one expects to change diapers for infants, and also can expect that job to cease in time. Cats have a reputation for cleanliness. I’m completely certain that the Heroine does not enjoy needing my help to clean up. And we are dealing here with a geriatric cat. The problems of geriatrics are always less attractive than those of babies, of whatever species.
So, I’ve held out till past 10. What is the appropriate beverage for this time of morning? Does Comrade PhysioProf advise MF Jameson’s at every hour of the day, or is there something more suitable in the pre-noon hours?