This has been a good weekend, but today ended up a bit more hectic/frazzling than expected.
Although pretty jam-packed, I managed to fit in all the stuff I had planned without feeling too overwhelmed/exhausted. On Friday I left work at 12:30ish to make my annual pilgrimage to Chestertown for the Sophie Kerr Reading. This year’s featured writer was Lemony Snickett (he has a real name, but this is the one I remember and I really don’t feel like Googling it…). I wasn’t too excited for it and mainly went to hang out with professors/friends, but the reading turned out to be really interesting/entertaining and I now have an interest in reading The Series of Misfortunate Events. Go figs.
It was back home that night to prepare for the Hike/Pie Eating up near the Poconos. I was feeling really apprehensive about this adventure and wondered if we’d be horribly out of place/out of shape for it, but fortunately, it proved to be a really nice time. There were certainly some people there who were more athletic, but there were those who were less so, so we fit comfortably in the middle. I was proud that I stayed toward the head/middle of the pack for the whole hike and managed to have some nice conversations with random strangers. I was a little disappointed that the pie shop wasn’t on top of the mountain as envisioned, but actually a couple miles down the road. It was still delicious. Before and after gorging, we spent a lot of time ogling all of the wonderful food stuffs they had. We bought some frozen pot pies to try for later (D got a Mexican one, I got a mac n’cheese one, and we bought a chicken pot pie for my mom) and I picked up a mixed berry pie for our Palm Sunday dinner. We ate lunch there too–chicken fingers for D (his new standard) and a black bean burger for me (AWESOME). We were happy and full and feeling energized from the exercise. It was a near-perfect day, sans the REALLY long drive home (No directions + no GPS = unexpected adventure).
D had inventory today and so I headed down to the Palm Sunday festivities alone. It was a nice deigo affair with rigatoni, a big ol’ salad, and lots of meatballs and chuck (that part I obv. didn’t include in). My bro’s mother in law made a yummy vegan applesauce cake (my sis-in-law went vegan for Lent. If only that were an all-the-time thing so I could have more veg-friendly options!!) and the mixed berry cake was a hit, too. Everything went well, things wrapped up quickly, my mom decided she wanted to go with my g-mom to visit my grandfather in the nursing home, so I was free to go. I was SO excited at the prospect of actually getting home early…
Before I left I headed upstairs for something and said my usual hello to my parent’s cat, Simon. Simon must now be around 10 or so. We got him when I was in high school and he was the youngest (and now only surviving) of my childhood pets. He was a street cat who followed my dad home and although he “blames” my mother for us keeping him, my dad was the one who brought him to the house in the first place. Due to his ‘hood roots, Simon can be rough–sometimes, for seemingly no reason, he will bite you in the middle of petting him, but for the most part, he’s a sweet, harmless cat. Anyway, as I was petting him today, I happened to notice a large abscess on the inside of his hind leg. I hadn’t seen it before, but it did not look good and it was kind of oozing (not pleasant, I know). I kind of freaked out because a) God knows how long it’s been there b) I knew he was going to need medical attention, not something easy to come by between my dad’s work schedule/total lack of knowledge when it comes to in depth pet care/my mom’s complete inability to provide proper care beyond filling up several dishes with water and dry food.
Living as far as we do, it wouldn’t be easy to come pick him up/take him to a vet during the week day without having to take off work and I really didn’t think it was a good idea to wait until next weekend to try to take care of it (God only knows how long he’s had the thing in the first place). So, after making some phone calls, I was able to secure some antibiotics for him and a pet carrier to get him to our place. Now our menagerie has grown to 2 needy bunnies and one needy cat who will not stop following me around the house, crying for things I’m unable to understand/provide.
Although I’m so so SO grateful for all the wonderful in-a-pinch help I received, it was really hard not to be frustrated with all this. Instead of getting home at 4, I got home at 8 and I had to take the ride with multiple stops so I could pick up all the things needed to care for the cat. The cat, who by the way, decided to serenade me the entire way back to Camden about how much he HATED being in the carrier and how absolutely sad he was about his fate. And I totally sympathize; I mean, Simon probably has not left my parent’s house in 6 or 7 years, easily. I went from sympathetic coos to curses as we drove along, promising him we’d be “home” soon, and finally saying “Dear Jesus– we’re RIGHT HERE!”
I am happy to help and hope that we’re able to get him help/relief, but another part of me just wishes I didn’t have to deal with this shit at all. This afternoon I felt myself pouting inwardly thinking, “this is just not fair. Why does everything have to be so complex all the time?” Although I’ve trained myself to get away from these feelings/thoughts, I think it’s something that anyone who is dealing with an illness/has a family member who is sick thinks on occasion. While my mom deals with Alzheimer’s, I am dealing with the “No Fair Disease”: It’s not fair that this happened to my family. It’s no fair that my life has been changed. It’s no fair that my perfectly good Sunday had to be completely disrupted by the reality of my life. For the most part, I’m able to keep my own “disease” in check, but every once and awhile, I slip back into it, unable to escape without some serious brooding.
Although I’m not all that thrilled with having a new species in the house, Simon is definitely being a love bug. He’s been following me around the house nonstop, rubbing up on me, looking for pets and snuggling next to me on the couch. I started his meds, but I don’t know how well it’s working (he got sick later this evening–I don’t know if it’s from them or a hairball… I might have to call the vet tomorrow), but at least I know he’s being treated. And, beyond the fact that I don’t want to see him/any animal suffer, I also am happy that I’m able to do something that would make my mom happy. She LOVES all animals, especially her own, and I think she’s relieved to know I’m taking care of him (at least she seemed happy when I explained why he was going with me). I talked to my dad later this evening and he said she hadn’t asked about Simon/noticed he was gone, so I guess that’s a good thing?
Hopefully he’ll get over his sickness quicker than it’s taken me to get over mine…