Friday, August 7, 2009
What with all this bug eating, leaf blowing, old house cleaning, new house moving - I'm tired. Stick a fork in me. I'm done.
I know I am tired. But, it is a little disconcerting when George the Elder arrives home from work today, takes one look at me and grimaces. He then says something sweet and loving along the lines of "you look like shit". That silver-tongued devil. And this was after I had gone out of my way to ensure that he had a delicious piping hot dinner waiting for him when he got home from an exhausting day at the office. (I read somewhere that wives are supposed to do this). In fact, he arrived home just seconds after the pizza delivery guy had pulled away from the curb. All that slaving over dinner and he tells me I look tired. Hmphhh.
In other news, my ex-neighbor had stopped by last Friday to ask me if I had seen her cat. She has a couple of cats, and it seemed like she sort of expected me to know which one it was. I asked for clarification. She said it was the old furry one. Problem solved. I should, at this point, inform you that my ex-neighbor is a self acclaimed wiccan. Yup, I had a witch for a neighbor. And I mean that literally. Of course, she had a couple of cats. I think it's a requirement.
In any event, we thought that perhaps the old furry one had gotten in to the house during the time that the movers were in there. I went over, checked the place out and pronounced it feline free. Told the my Wiccan neighbor that he wasn't there.
Monday, I drive over the old house to get some last odds and ends and to water the lawn. I note that "lost cat" signs have been affixed to various tall items on the street. I think to myself, too bad, the witch still hasn't found her familiar.
Then, finally on Wednesday I go over to put out the trash for the last pick up and my neighbor is backing out of her drive way. We do the wave thing and then she backs up and rolls her window down. She has this huge smile on her face. She yells out the window in an exuberant tone, "We found the cat!" Cheshire grin still affixed. I yell back, "Where'd you find him finally?" Still smiling, this is what she says, "Oh! We found him under our bed yesterday. He was dead. Must have been there since Friday! (interject some laughter here and, if I'm not mistaken a little toss of the head) Well, gotta run!" and she drives off. Still delighted and beaming. I was left stunned and speechless.
So, let me get this straight. First, your cat is dead. Second, he's been dead for at least 5 days under your bed. Third, did they find him because he started to stink or because she just happened to look under there? Last, what's with the grinning? Is this a happy time when your spirit creature dies in the Wiccan world?
For me - well it was just down right disturbing.