Recommended wine for today’s entry: Tormaresca Chardonnay. I had a bottle over the last few days and I’m sad that it’s gone. The label says “aromas of exotic fruit, citrus and pineapple. It is an elegant wine with pear flavors and a delicate minerality…” Well, I hate pears, so maybe I like the alcohol content. Whatever it is, I enjoyed it. And after the day I’ve had, I just decided to go buy more!
Tonight I am going to take my husband up on his offer to go out to dinner. Perhaps you are jealous. Maybe you remember when Hall of Fame basketball coach Denny Crum made a comment about wishing he were an East End housewife, something about tennis and lunch, I don’t remember the exact quote – but the gist is there. Before you wish for my life, consider my glamorous day:
First, I read for the blind. This is actually the highlight of my Thursdays, and today I recorded part of a sociology book for a very popular local figure, Patrick Henry Hughes, a member of the University of Louisville marching band. Two hours well spent.
I returned home to sit in a steam bath for a half an hour… sounds nice, huh? …with my very sick cat, Leroy. She has a mysterious cough and other icky things and has lost a lot of weight. While steaming, I tried to entice her to eat, holding Fancy Feast savory salmon in my hands, leaving a residual odor that I feared I’d never lose.
Next, I started a load of laundry and made my first attempt at awakening my fairly worthless summer boarder, my college-age daughter. Oh, and I had a PopTart and a glass of ice tea for lunch. Break over: On to the garage.
While Leroy (the garage resident) is holed up in the basement bathroom, I decided to clean the garage. This mainly consisted of scraping the hardened spleens of her recent victims off the concrete floor. It is quite a challenge – first, I soaked said spleens (I love alliteration!) in a Lysol mixture. I let that sit while I used a broom and jumped as high as I could, trying to knock the layer of spiderwebs off the ceiling. This has become almost net-like and I thought about using it to surprise my husband by filling it with balloons like at my high school prom. But latex gives me hives, so instead I did the jumpy thing with the broom. The real surprise for my husband would have been if he’d come home early and seen his 48-year-old wife springing four inches off the floor, swinging a broom and covered in mosquito skeletons and moth wings.
Back to the spleens, which came up but left little bloodstains. I considered taking sidewalk chalk and outlining the crime scene, but time was short and there was still the raccoon-and-trapped-chipmunk urine to deal with. Sorry about the dangling participle.
Using a sponge that I may or may not return to the kitchen sink, I then wiped strong Lysol on all the spots where Leroy’s enemies and conquests had hidden and – er, panicked, I guess. That was especially pleasant. About this time, one of our good friends, Ray, who is always immaculately dressed and groomed, arrived at the house to borrow our Churchill Downs parking pass. I think I scared him. The good news is, now my hands smell less like savory salmon and more like lemon Lysol with a hint of salmon.
Spleens – check, Spiderwebs – check, Scared critter squirt – check. The garage looks pretty good.
One more steam bath with sick cat and a quick cleaning of her goopy eyes and crusty nose. While visiting, I also sprayed some Little Noses up her nostrils. If you have never tried to use nose spray on a cat, you should. Take pictures. Then, in an attempt to get her to eat before she has to start “fasting” for her sedation tomorrow, I had the great idea to give her cat nip. This was based on a theory (mine and mine alone) that it would work like pot in people and give her the munchies, with the added benefit that she might not feel so miserable. It made her sneeze and I got doused with cat snot.
So, after starting yet another load of laundry, I sat down to write this. In the 20 minutes that I’ve been doing it, I have gotten up once to clean up cat puke that I fortunately (or unfortunately) overheard happening live, so I caught it before it could do damage to the antique petticoat table that Megan barfs on once a day; I let one dog out, but the other one was too afraid to go past me in the doorway because I was holding a paper towel; I let the dog back in and the other one barked to go out; and I spilled my ice tea all over the kitchen counter, then cut my hand on a piece of glass I failed to pick up yesterday when I broke a wine glass on it. (Never buy clear headbands – you can’t see them when setting things on the counter.)
Now my finally-roused and perky-after-12-hours-sleep daughter wants me to “go do something fun.” At this point, all the fun I want is waiting for me at the Liquor Barn. Or a nice restaurant.
And just for the record, if I had more than a four-inch vertical jump, I’d coach basketball.