October 23, 2o11
The last two mornings with Frankie have been nothing short of horrific.
With the presence of the birdfeeders and the introduction of Cat TV also comes the Cirque du Soliel: Squirrel Version.
A variety of arrogant and acrobatic squirrels arabesque and plie and jete all over the birdfeeders in a quest for winter sustenance.
Driving Stephen and Frankie mad for completely different reasons.
Crafty squirrels torment and torture Frankie knowing that he cannot get them, no matter how long and loud he barks.
How often he stands at the window crying.
How many times we ask him to please stop.
Until, that is, it is time for him to go outside for his morning ablutions.
So hyped up on squirrel hate he is almost unmanageable.
Hence I've resorted to taking them out one at a time.
And checking for the squirrels before I even think it's okay to take Frankie beyond the confines of the house.
But these squirrels should be commended for their audacity.
Meaning I'll get pictures soon.
As in right after I refill the bird feeders.
Sick.
I am sick.
Although evidence suggesting that the pathogen infesting Stephen had made its pilgrimage to my previously healthy corpus, as early as Friday, I chose to ignore them.
Because that is what I do best.
Ignore things that attempt to impose any level of slowing down to my life.
However yesterday it was apparent that I had lost the I-will-ignore-you-battle.
Sitting at my computer at work, after dropping Keith off for his double shift at the theater, looking for an obscure reading for Stephen, I was forced to conclude that I was sick and there was little I could do about it.
Such knowledge has done nothing to put me into a more pleasant state of mind.
Nonetheless, I found Stephen's document.
Returned home.
Only to be reminded that I had promised a movie with Em, who had a rare and almost unprecedented Saturday off.
Paranormal Activity 3.
Em and I have made it a point to see all of these films, which are indeed scary without being gory.
I've concluded that these films are working backwards and eventually there will be a Paranormal Activity 15 and all the pieces will fall into place.
Either way, it was a 90 minute reprieve from the knowledge that I am sick and neither end of me is safe.
I am so not looking forward to the next couple of days.
Although if there is a moment, no matter how short, where I am feeling able, I will be out for a walk this afternoon.
The remainder of the say was spent in bed or in my spot in the living room watching movies.
Bridesmaids with Stephen.
Some people felt bad that he was forced to watch this film with me.
They should know he laughed out loud and was entertained thoroughly.
Thus the purpose of the film was successful.
And then because it's almost Halloween and therefore AMCs annual FearFest, Em and I watched the 1995 Village of the Damned.
A terrible film.
Amusing.
Christopher Reeve's last film before his horrible accident.
A slim, trim and always smoking a foreign cigarette Kirstie Alley.
Filled with cold meds, I was unable to stay awake until the end of the film.
Meaning I was a little surprised when I woke up this morning in my bed, Stephen snoring beside me, Frankie cramping my legs with his insistence upon laying as close to me on the bed as humanly possible, wondering how I managed to get into bed in the first place.
Not the first time I wondered such a thing in my lifetime.
Albeit certainly many, many, many moons since I wondered such a thing.
And that this morning, for the first time this season, the weather network had their 24 hour snowfall report up.
For Thursday and Friday.
Not much.
Enough to panic those people without snowtires.
Like us.
Finally, let me just end with saying that I am really enjoying Ted Danson on CSI.
Title Lyric: Wakin' Up in Vegas by Katy Perry
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