So much existential angst. I’ve begun to wonder why it matters if I write. Who cares? This seems to be the season of IDGAF in our world. Or have I been cruising too much social media and people really do still care?
I sit in my little room with Blitz lying on the quilt behind me. He likes to come to zoom meetings with me, so he’s here now. When he heard that I was awake, he came in and asked, “Mmm?” When did I first notice that that he does that every day? I turn around in my seat and say, “Mmm?” back to him. Then I pet his floofy belly and we blink at each other for a bit. I’ve been trained. When I go upstairs, my old Seth will chirrup at me too and I’ll go over and greet him good morning. Of course, I will. I haven’t talked to him in about six hours. My post-Covid condition has been good for him. He’s an eighteen-year-old cat with a frequently available lap. Mike and I will repeat our morning words, like birdsong, they come out mostly the same, over and over again. It’s a comfort.
So, back to the season of IDGAF. Yesterday, I didn’t have a perky face to do a selfie with as I stood in the foreground with Blitz as he tried to crawl into the new deck umbrella box I got for Christmas. Close your eyes and picture a five-by-five-by-eighty-inch box with both ends opened. Then picture old Seth who put his head and shoulders into the space, realized how it would affect his arthritis and backed out. Then, Blitz gave it a try because Seth did. He pushed in as far as he could go. His belly regrouped, bunched, and shuffled. Eventually, even Blitz backed out. He tried this a couple of times, but no, he didn’t get stuck. I’m glad for that. He’s silly. He’s a chonk. He’s always going to act like a baby cat. But he’s not stupid. You can picture it, but don’t try to imagine me in the foreground looking casually made up with pouty lips and arched back. I haven’t combed my hair this morning and my back doesn’t arch in a photogenic way because of arthritis in it.
So, did that get past the IDGAF crew! I doubt it. I don’t even know if people read blogs anymore. I just hate to get rid of this one because I didn’t backup some of it and I don’t remember which. It still matters to me. I’m not sure why, but it does. For now, I’m going to go make instant coffee, tea for Mike, cat food for the kits, and toast. If I take my coffee out on the deck to watch the hummingbirds, they will give me a morning chirrup too and I will repeat my birdsong of ‘Hi, Baby, hi baby, hi Baby’ to them. I’ve been talking to the new little bat roosting near the heated hummingbird feeder too. He may not hear me though because I think he’s hibernating.
Have I been cute enough to get past the IDGAF crew? It’s probably irrelevant because they all reside in my mind too. And idea is hard to kill. I’ll remember this when I scroll past so many perky faces and talking pouty lips who are also trying to be relevant in this jaded world.
Thank you for listening, jules