I've been a bad cat mom. Everyone was all current with vet visits right before we left Charleston two years ago, and everyone's records were transferred to the really nice clinic not far from our new house. But in the intervening two years, only Jackie got to have a checkup. The other three have been without exams or booster shots since we got here, which is probably okay for indoor cats, but that became less tenable this month. Alfred and Rabbit have been making their discomfort known, in the only ways they could: jumping on our bellies (especially first thing in the morning when our bladders are full or when I'm sleeping sprawled out and vulnerable on my back, when a collection of bunny paws punching my solar plexus hurts more) and putting sharp claws on our arms and making meaningful eye contact for longer than normal. Both of them have been bothered by icky ears, and today their horrible mother finally prioritized them instead of work or her own health. They both had to be held for what seemed like hours, while the tech and doc squirted goo into their ears and dug and dug with cotton swabs. Alfred went first, until neither he nor the vets could handle it anymore, and then they turned him loose and went after Rabbit. She enjoyed it much less than he did. But by evening they both seemed to have forgiven me for my delay in seeking treatment, and for subjecting them to the treatments once they were offered.
We thought after the vet we were going to go up to Rocky Mountain National Park, but by the time we got home, I needed a nap and the Mr went up the street to help our one of our neighbors. She was completely re-landscaping, with new sod surrounded by a wide perimeter of pebbles to cut down on water needs and maintenance. Unfortunately, the landscaper left the sod on pallets for too long, and much of it died back, and some miscommunication with scheduling (I assume) left 14,000 pounds of gravel piled in the street in front of her house. The city issued a warning, so she had to move it all herself this weekend. While I napped, the Mr helped fill wheelbarrows full of rock and move it to the back yard, where she was putting down weed barrier and edging herself. When I woke, I wandered down and learned the full scope of the project. Over her objections (another person who thinks my health challenges mean that I am more fragile than I really am), I picked up a shovel and started helping too. It was fine while it was overcast, but once the sun came out, I started having less fun. I was probably on the job less than two hours before I gave up completely and came back here for ice cream and TV in the cool basement.
I've been spending money like there is no tomorrow. I've bought several toys, already discussed in this space. I've also been playing the Bank of Mommy and I'm the one to reach for my credit cards first when we go to restaurants or Costco ever since I started having a real (if irregular) income. I'm almost completely tapped out. I need to stop making it rain and find some cheap thrills for a month or two, until I've had more closings and absorbed some of my expenses. Today's $350 trip to the vet drove home that need. I have a lot of things around the house that I bought to use as projects, that are still in the bags they came home in. Maybe staying home and making curtains or clothes or something might be advisable. I'll still have things to write about, and I won't feel like such a frivolous consumer if I stop swiping those cards for a few weeks. Time to behave.
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