“Never a dull moment” to the degree that I don’t know if I would recognize one if it were happening

Some time around 10:30 PM (I’m too lazy to check the call log), my phone woke me up (think “Concerning Hobbits” as referenced in my post from last week).  People are always calling me for random reasons at all hours of the day and night.  It was my roommates, there was a kitten stuck under the hood of a truck downstairs.  I was half asleep, it was a very confusing phone call.  The small killing machine herself is now safe — and clean — in a carrier in the back bedroom.  She’s as cute as they come, not feral AT ALL, and has had a very rough day.  I guess the story is that she was stuck there all day, though maybe not ALL day because I walked the not-my-dog twice Monday and we would have noticed kitten meows.  I found a trapped kitten myself by the rectory at the church up the street a few months back (a fun fiasco — I needed to tie up the not-my-dog to not freak the kitten out, but the dog was freaking out because the man who was helping me was a stranger and was way too close to one of her people).

I feel like a horrible person for hoping the cat goes somewhere else (like back to its real family or to a nice home), but we have three kids five and under, a cat, a dog, two frogs, a gecko, a goldfish, plus my two guinea pigs.  The three year-old is, well, she’s Elmira — terrorizes all animals but is also deluded that they like her (Elmira is a character from Tiny Toon Adventures and Animaniacs! — my afternoon tween and teen cartoon destination).  The last thing this crazy house needs is a kitten (the cat agrees, she’s old and cranky and still hasn’t forgiven them for the dog).

Apart from that?

My new *workout plan* involves taking the not-my-dog running on 2.6 mi round-trip trips on a local designated bike path…on a (pro series) Razor scooter.  She is half chihuahua and half rat terrier — and the terrier means she has the energy of your average nuclear reactor (ROCKET DOG!!!!).  And darn it if that critter won’t pull me if we’re on a slight decline.  Really though…the sight of a thirty-something on a scooter, with a helmet (so uncool…and yet so safe, I’ve broken two helmets in falls and have been hit by cars twice — one rolled a red light, the other didn’t stop at a driveway; the helmet stays), with a weird little rat dog racing like a bat out of hell DEFINITELY turns heads…but generally in a “WTH was that?!” kind of way.  Like dog mushing on a much smaller and more eccentric scale.  But really, if you are my friend, you understand that for all the intellectual high-brow stuff, part of me remains still seven years-old (I am only 98% grown-up).

The 98% grown-up was getting very cranky this afternoon.  I did, finally, finish my post on gratitude, but needed to sit close enough to the WiFi to pick up the signal…which put me in the middle of the living room policing a child with whom I was losing my patience as she seemed hell-bent on being as annoying as humanly possible.  I eventually threw her butt in time out for not listening because I was just sick of dealing with her…and the catch was that she wasn’t listening in time out either, so I wouldn’t have cared if she stayed in time out forever.  Brother is sick and was home from school, others are getting sick…it was just a crazy busy day where what I thought was going to get done didn’t get done.

The air conditioning was fixed before dinner, so I retreated to my room at dinner time and took a four hour nap (haven’t really slept since at least last Wednesday).  It was too lovely for words.

I don’t remember what my next writing topic will be — I looked at it last night, but I was very tired at the time.  I remember being delighted by it.  I give myself permission to deal with it in the morning.

My morning wake-up bug hunt

One of the more disgusting aspects of my present missionary post, as it were, is that we are overrun with roaches (nasty on levels you don’t want to think about).  In addition to sweltering heat, there are bugs.  It’s gross.  These do not feel like “first-world” problems.  The first thing I saw this morning when my alarm went off was a small roach scurrying toward my bookshelf.  It ran around a volume of Thomas Merton and a volume of three collected works of Augustine.  Seemed a pity to kill the beast since it obviously had good taste in theology, but it had to be done.  I found it amusing, however, that it selected two works which well-complemented each other.


Blessings for your Sunday.