First of all, please let me reiterate how much I hate being woken up by a cat. Like I’ve said before, it’s not usually in my nature to sleep in, so when I DO, I know my body is saying “PLEASE GIVE ME AN EFFING REST!” Apparently my body is not in contact with Taco. I woke up at 9 because he wouldn’t shut up, and I was so tired it felt like I was getting up at my workday 5:30am for work. I was not pleased.
So we left them.
2nd beach trip of this mini vacay, and I insisted we leave “early,” i.e. 11:30. Because the weather is actually so perfectly perfect, the masses are all running out to the beaches for the holiday weekend. Well, this turned out to be not early enough, as there was nary a parking spot to be found. And of course, since I hate driving and I hate having plans ruined, I got overly frustrated and started crying. Yeah. I cry. I’m not afraid to punch a 200-pound dude in the face (I firmly believe that you can always fight someone bigger than you, but NEVER fight anyone crazier than you) but I will cry like a little girl when I don’t get my way. Perhaps this can be attributed to being an only child, maybe I’m just a baby. I don’t know. So I turned the controls over to the boyfriend )who is used to these episodes and should be up for sainthood for effortlessly dealing with them), telling him that I didn’t even care anymore, I just wanted to go home. He, of course, ignored me, and tried the parking lot again, where miraculously, a guy was pulling out at that exact moment. And no one else was waiting to take the spot. He’s my lucky charm. I really hate driving.
I know this is Florida. having lived here for the entirety of my life, I’m more familiar with the climate here than anywhere else in this entire world. So when I tell you it was scorching today, feel free to believe me completely.
I also know that I’m (mostly) Polish, and therefore prone to fairer skin than say, a Cuban, like my best friend, who never burns, instead turns a lovely shade of dark, as does the boyfriend (inexplicably, because his lineage is all European). So I have to wear sunscreen. I only wear 15SPF. I realize this is horrible for my future self, and in fact, my own mother had a spot of skin cancer from her nose years ago. In my defense, I DO wear 30 on my face, and not just at the beach, in my daily tinted moisturizer. Apparently I don’t care if the rest of my skin is leathery and wrinkled in my old age. I already hate what age is doing to my face, thanks to my birth control, which causes brown splotches called Melasma. You probably wouldn’t notice unless I pointed it out, but I have a dark spot resembling a mustache which I assure you is NOT actually a mustache. THANKS HORMONES.
But back to my story. Today, I felt like my skin was boiling. We spent two and a half hours there before we just couldn’t take it anymore. The water was lovely, but it can only help so much. And it’s only May. AND A COLD FRONT CAME THROUGH YESTERDAY! I can’t even imagine what it’s going to be when the real humidity kicks in. I despise laying on my stomach anyway (so hot and uncomfortable), but today it was just impossible. I couldn’t even READ. I GO to the beach to read. My body temperature was far too high to concentrate.
I’m not sure whether this is old age or global warming, but even the sand blistered my feet. It’s effing white! REFLECT HEAT LIKE YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO. WTF.
The kicker is that I didn’t even get burnt. At all. I can only barely see my tan lines.
And yes, I realize that I’m bitching about something that most people would DREAM to be able to bitch about, but I’m a Florida native girl, and the beach and reading on the beach and getting color is what makes me happy. Other people play bingo and shit. I bake myself and read. Scientifically, this is actually quite logical. Your body processing the sun’s rays produces Vitamin D, vital for one’s mood. And it’s better received this way than from supplements. And reading, well, who can say anything NOT beneficial about that?
That’s a hell of a case I just made there. I should have been a lawyer. Also, I think I should just move to Hawaii. The sand is better (it just FALLS OFF your feet AND it feels like a pumice scrub to walk over it) and I swear the Pacific salt water causes a more golden glow.
It’s day 1 of our mini vacay. I couldn’t REALLY sleep in because I had an eye appointment early-ish anyway, but Taco wasn’t having any of that. SIX THIRTY. A-hole.
This is Taco last night. He’s practically dead. Why can’t he be like this early in the morning?
Now the boyfriend and I are too lazy to go to the beach. Rather, I had everything kinda ready and the boyfriend said “Why don’t we be lazy today and go tomorrow.” I was TRYING to be un-lazy. It didn’t take much to twist my arm. I’m pining for the great weather I see outside, but…I have 4 more days, right? Why is it so much harder to force yourself to do things the older you get? I’m tempted to buy a kiddie pool so I can lay out back and dip my feet in. That’s pretty much the ultimate in laziness.
We did, at least, go to a beach bar yesterday. That’s something.
My caturday was spent, for the most part, without cats.
I know. This is shocking. Usually I spend my Caturdays lazing around the house, lamenting about how I’m too lazy to do anything. Recovering from my week. But this Caturday is special. For you see, I’m on vacation. Kind of. I am officially out of service where Big Brown in concerned all the way until after Memorial Day! WHEEEE! And to boot, I have an official WORK-FREE 5-day vacation starting at 3pm Wednesday!
It’s a lot easier to be unlazy when you know that you have more available lazy time in your future.
So today, I exerted myself. EXERTED! My friend and I rented bikes and rode around St. Pete. We oogled over old houses we can’t afford and took some beachy scenic routes. My friend loves history, so she didn’t seem to mind my stories (St. Pete is my hometown, so I spent a great deal of time saying “Well, THAT wasn’t there before”). Or the heat. I even sunscreened myself effectively, although possibly TOO effectively, because I don’t appear to have a tan. Which is probably good, because I don’t ride in my bathing suit (shocking, right?) and would have had some wretched tan lines, but I did want a LITTLE glow.
Despite the fact that neither of us had been on bikes in a rather long time, there were no injuries. Apparently “just like riding a bike” is quite the accurate metaphor. However, hills are another story, and so are bike seats. Now, I am not a skinny girl. I wouldn’t be skinny even if I starved myself. But I have a white girl butt. It’s fat and flat. Despite the flatness, there’s plenty of padding. It was useless.
And about the hills…there’s really no “hills” to speak of. Most of Pinellas county is under sea level. Perhaps “slight inclines” would be a better description. And these weren’t even too bad…until we stopped for lunch. With beer. It was noticeably more difficult to pedal after lunch. This could be attributed to the fact that we’d already been riding a few hours, or because we took a break from it. I liken it to getting a tattoo…you never want to take a break. Get it all done at once. If you stop, it hurts like a bitch upon restarting. But beer can’t possibly be detrimental, right?
Anyway, it was a lovely day. We were both so amazed that we made plans, kept them, AND the weather held out that we talked mostly about how amazed we were.
I didn’t see any cats. But I saw a lot of boats. Including catamarans. And after the 2nd catamaran we saw with a cat paw print in the name, it occurred to me that it was because they were CATamarans. So you see, I had a Caturday after all! IT ALL COMES AROUND TO CATS.
So here’s my day, in picture form.
Newsflash: This morning, the cats DID NOT WAKE ME UP.
The boyfriend did. At 6:30. To tell me he fed the cats. THANKS HONEY.
And people wonder why I don’t want kids. I have 3.
Speaking off, the furry ones are certainly full of vim and vigor today. They’re chasing each other around the house and chirping at things I can’t see at the sliding glass door.
And playing with the Sunday paper.
So I’m getting out of the house. It’s a little windy for a beach day, but it’s cloudless and lovely and I’m going to have some bestie time with my favorite gal while getting brown (or sunburned, which is more likely, despite careful application of sunscreen).
Happy Sunday, ya’ll!
In true Polish fashion, I celebrated by first sun of the year with a sunburn, despite careful application of 15spf OceanPotion Gel (this is sincerely the best sunscreen I have ever used, yet it’s impossible to find. You have to scrape it off in the shower later but it STICKS. I just miss spots. It’s just one of those stupid things I do, I miss streaks of skin somehow. And yes, I know that 15 is shitty, but I like being tan, and I started getting my skin cancer checks last year, since I live in Florida and all. And I wear 30 on my face.)
Too much, in fact. I was pleased to be greeted by both boys. I dropped the boyfriend off at a friend’s house (prior plans, but I just wanted to go home) so I am currently the only target of affection.
So much affection. Taco has followed me meowing for 3 fulls hours now. Everywhere I go, there he is. It’s ridiculous. I mean, I’m glad they weren’t mad at us for having left them for 3 days but I didn’t expect that Taco would be so concerned upon my return that I would leave again. Moosh has been lovey but modestly so, especially in comparison to Mr. Attached To Mommy’s Hip.
I missed my babies too. My mom totally spoiled them. There’s so much food in their bowls they could eat for a week. This is why her cats are overweight. She’s always very concerned about kitties going hungry. She worries about this with humans, too, which is why she brings me vegan cake all the time, usually right when I have sworn to eat healthily (even though being vegan, my food intake is generally on the healthy side, except for my weakness for french fries).
But I do really appreciate her feeding them and checking on them each day. Who knows what kind of trouble they would have gotten into otherwise? My puke-soiled duvet cover is in the dryer as we speak, and if that’s the worst that happened, I’m vaguely ok with that.
We both work two jobs…you’d think they’d be more used to us NOT being home.
Either way, I’m glad to be back, even though it feels like I never left. In case you’re wondering, Ft. Myers Beach is a very lovely destination. I don’t know what it’s like for spring break or during the summer but it was mostly older people and Germans. I don’t know why that area attracts a plethora of Germans, but MAN, is it ever full of them. I wish the weather had cooperated a bit more, but it was pretty and it’s always nice to get away with the boyfriend.
I live in a townhouse. Behind my townhouse is a “yard,” then some trees and foliage, and then what USED to be some sort of overgrown field. I’m not sure what was back there, I never ventured that far. I almost did one time when we thought Taco had gotten out (he was inside the couch) but nothing bad really ever seemed to come from back there either so I didn’t really pay it any mind. There are bunnies who come out and eat the grass and amuse the kitties by ignoring them completely. I had imagined they lived in the growth back behind the trees.
But this week, some big machine razed everything back there. I enjoyed the privacy that having NOTHING behind our house afforded, and the quiet. I don’t know what they’re going to do back there. But more importantly, I wonder what will happen to the bunnies?
I love Florida. I was born here. I grew up here. I inherited my mom’s passion for the nature here. So maybe that’s kinda hippie of me. I once watched my normally mild-mannered mother get out of her car and yell at people cutting down mangroves (it’s illegal, they protect against erosion).
So pardon me if I get annoyed every time one more patch of nature goes to shit. Florida isn’t that big, and there’s not that much left that’s not paved over. Even the beaches we’re so envied for, those aren’t real. They truck in the sand. Real Florida beaches are kind of like dirt sand. It’s still nice, it’s just not real. Palm trees are not native here. We have Palmettos (and hence Palmetto bugs, aka roaches, aka Florida’s state bird).
I get so pissed when there’s a commotion about an alligator venturing into someone’s house. Oh, golly gee, how dare he? Alligators are protected unless they’re “nuisances” and then they have to kill them. How is walking around in your natural habitat a nuisance? He doesn’t understand why the hell someone put a house there.
And the most heartbreaking. The Florida Panthers. They are incredibly beautiful animals. There’s so few of them left. Why? Because they keep trying to cross roads and get hit by cars. Because they keep putting *&$#*(#ing roads everywhere.
I don’t like my generation. I’m terrified of the generation after mine. I think we’re all a bunch of selfish a-holes who are ruining everything. So what if we didn’t make the hole in the Ozone? We know better now. If you’re reading this, I’m probably not talking to you, because it’s people who don’t read that scare me the most.
Aaaaand that’s my rant for the day.
Today, I have been very productive. I went to Target, Michael’s, the gym AND the beach (Debby left AMAZING weather in her wake, even if she did take an awful lot of the sand dunes with her, too). And I even took half of the recycling to the recycling place! I can’t get too excited about that one. It’s literally a 5 second drive. But YAY TO ENVIRONMENTALLY-FRIENDLINESS!
I’m not looking forward to my next task, though. Reconfiguring the downstairs litter box placement.
Anyway, the perfect place for a corner-style box was in the “dining room” that we don’t use as a dining room or really anything else. And this is fine. However, the boyfriend’s mom is coming to visit and the only good place to put an inflatable bed is in that very same space. Considering the boys have made that their favorite pooping place and therefore considering the stench, it’s going to have to be moved. That’s just not nice. I love the boyfriend’s mom. If she was an evil in-law, I’d probably consider leaving it but she is most definitely on the good side.
I’ve heard cats are rather finicky about change, and although mine seem to take most things in stride except for the vacuum cleaner and mattress delivery people, I’m slightly concerned with a) where to put it and b) if they are going to have, literally, a shit fit.
It feels like such a daunting task that it almost seems easier to clear the 2nd bedroom of my craft things and put her there, except there’s a litter box here, too, and my closet and bathroom (I highly recommend separate bathrooms and closets in a relationship — I think it’s the key to longevity).
There’s also other cleaning involved in preparation. Not looking forward to that either. I’m not the cleanest person on earth. Even when I try, I’m still messy.
But I suppose this is enough procrastination. SIGH.