Well, it's not a cat but it is small and stupid with a face like a nightmare so it just might do.
Day 18
Grim. Don't feel well at all -- did I get too much sun?Nauseous nauseated, ill at ease. Drive to Cap Pele in a futile search for potato salad ingredients. When did white wine vinegar become so exotic? Company coming between 6 to 6:30 so I start barbecuing with a mind to serve dinner around 6:50. This being the maritimes, people arrive at 7, and C tells me that we won't be eating until at least 7:30, because "people need a chance to visit first". So the meat is well done. I'm also told that "there is no sense of time at the cottage". I'll remember that.
C opens up all the windows before going to bed because it's "stuffy" (Fresh Air Nazis rejoice) and to give the sideways-driving rainstorm full cottage access. It nicely soaks a pile of books she piled up for me on the windowsill (actually it's some kind of fucking cat ledge, but don't get me started). She says I should have closed the window when I was stumbling around in the dark at 3 a.m, when I was chased to the couch by someone's kicking and snoring. I stand corrected. Anyway, what do I know? I haven't slept for days. There's no sense of time at the cottage!
Day 19
Big rain. I sit at the table by the front picture window (the one C would turn into sliding doors) and watch hummingbirds be cruel to each other. I pay some bills, write some postcards. Later I'll make a nice fire. Lunch, nap. No Chinese gangsters today, which takes the edge off. And I do feel better.
I deal with the garbage (it has to be hauled up the road and of course C likes to fill the bags with bottles and bricks, I swear to God she'd put in an air conditioner if she could) and walk to the store. After some potato salad leftovers I have my twice-weekly shower (C once yelled at me for having too long a shower, at which point I said Fine, bring on the stink) and play Cranium with C. I win so she immediately disparages my guessing skills. Then we go over to Cousin Jane's, where a mystery guest awaits ... turns out to be a guy who works just up the hall from C, who happened to visiting the shore and had no idea C was down here. The work stories go on until midnight (I guess ... with all this futility of time, I threw my watch in the ocean), and then we wobble home in the dark.
Day 18
Grim. Don't feel well at all -- did I get too much sun?
C opens up all the windows before going to bed because it's "stuffy" (Fresh Air Nazis rejoice) and to give the sideways-driving rainstorm full cottage access. It nicely soaks a pile of books she piled up for me on the windowsill (actually it's some kind of fucking cat ledge, but don't get me started). She says I should have closed the window when I was stumbling around in the dark at 3 a.m, when I was chased to the couch by someone's kicking and snoring. I stand corrected. Anyway, what do I know? I haven't slept for days. There's no sense of time at the cottage!
Day 19
Big rain. I sit at the table by the front picture window (the one C would turn into sliding doors) and watch hummingbirds be cruel to each other. I pay some bills, write some postcards. Later I'll make a nice fire. Lunch, nap. No Chinese gangsters today, which takes the edge off. And I do feel better.
I deal with the garbage (it has to be hauled up the road and of course C likes to fill the bags with bottles and bricks, I swear to God she'd put in an air conditioner if she could) and walk to the store. After some potato salad leftovers I have my twice-weekly shower (C once yelled at me for having too long a shower, at which point I said Fine, bring on the stink) and play Cranium with C. I win so she immediately disparages my guessing skills. Then we go over to Cousin Jane's, where a mystery guest awaits ... turns out to be a guy who works just up the hall from C, who happened to visiting the shore and had no idea C was down here. The work stories go on until midnight (I guess ... with all this futility of time, I threw my watch in the ocean), and then we wobble home in the dark.
I am taking your camera away from you. And then, after Peanut is born, not eating until that double chin I've sprouted disappears. Thanks for posting this pic, hon. I'll remember this kindness.
ReplyDeletePS And you weren't "nauseous." You were "nauseated." You're welcome.
ReplyDeleteI would be so mad if Christian posted a pic of me I didn't like....you are horrible! I'm sure by the sounds of her, your day is coming! Love the butterfly curtains...did C make them?!
ReplyDeleteIs there like an al-anon version of anger management?
ReplyDeleteAnyone?
I did make them, thank you! I made all the curtains in the cottage, including the ones in the doorways (no doors). You're welcome, DJ, for making your living environments so pretty!
ReplyDeleteWell wonderful work indeed on the curtains Christina! :-) I make all my own things too, curtains/drapes, clothing and the list goes on...my mind is always spinning with new things to keep myself busy. I do like your profile image, quite lovely!
ReplyDelete