|
|
Note: I am aware that this looks God awful in IE. Do yourself a favor and get you some Firefox before you get lost in the big scary world out there.
Saturday, June 14th, 2008
Lost cat
Every couple of years I seem to have a streak of bad luck that ranges from a few months to the whole damn thing. I've had a good two years, which means that I've been long overdue for getting smacked in the head with a righteous hammer. It wasn't the perfect school year, especially with my body rejecting nearly everything it once tolerated, so perhaps this stretches back to October, but at any rate, I certainly see no end in sight.
I just feel so sad lately. I'm working seven days a week, and I am tired of being on the train and bus, especially when I always seem to be there when something ridiculous happens (no, no, Bus 554, don't worry about showing up for an hour and a half, where could I possibly have to be on a workday morning?). I am off of contacts for the next two weeks, at which point I'll have to switch to dailies, which will cost me so much more money, and my glasses make me feel ugly. Never mind being ugly every second of the day, having to feel it resting on the sides of my big red nose just hurts me in my chest. I had a procedure recently that was more embarrassing than it was painful, so I have talked to literally no one about it and don't plan to because there will not be the right reaction. I don't see many people anymore, anyway; most of the times this doesn't bother me because when I am this morose, the last thing I want is people, but I have this crazy idea that every person should have a Someone they can always talk to. I am also sad because I may have missed my opportunity at a Someone by a day and a half, even though probably nothing would have happened (why would it? guys don't make passes at girls with glasses), but the almost-there possibility is driving me crazy inside--I'd talk to someone about it if there were a Someone, but if there were a Someone then there'd be little else to talk about on the subject. My haircut did not turn out the way I wanted it. I've been having a lot of trouble dealing with my brother's gradual exeunt from my life, becoming no longer my brother but someone else's husband. I'm more upset by Tim Russert's death than I thought I would be and was so moved that his book about his father sold out by noon today. I fell for every possible trap lain for me on Friday the 13th, and it was also the day that I realized that Moses hadn't been seen in several days.
I already feel like saying a big fuck you to everyone, because I already know that no one quite understands my love for my cat. It's just, when I'm feeling like this, like I am the ugliest, stupidest, most unlikeable broad on the planet, and it's a consistent feeling I've had since October, then Cozmo is just about the only one who knows what to do. He knows to just sit with me without projecting any vibes like he would rather be somewhere else, or that he maybe agrees with some of it, or tries to give me advice on how best to handle it; he just sits with me, falls asleep with me, and that's all I need. When you're as lonely as I am, you gravitate towards the things that love you the most. When the thing that loves you the most is a cat, well, then it's a cat.
And still, the last time I remember seeing him, I was in a sleepless Sunday night rage, the type where I try to knock myself out, and I kicked him in the face for putting his wet nose against my ticklish feet. No one else has seen him since about Tuesday. He never leaves the yard, at least not more than an hour. I can't imagine him getting eaten by a coyote because he's faster than a speeding bullet, nor can I picture him getting lost because he's lived here for 12 years, yet here we are. I sobbed this morning, calling for him out in the woods; I sobbed on my lunch break, holding my breath whenever someone walked in to grab a radio; I sobbed on the drive home, because the signs I had made in a fit this morning had actually been hung up around the neighborhood, in the mailboxes, on the golf course. When I came home, my mom said, "You got a haircut, I see."
"It's not the way I want it to be. Few things are." I sobbed instead of eating dinner.
All the tears are coming from more places than this, simply because inconvenience after inconvenience has been building up for months, but they're absolutely heightened because Moses isn't here. Even with Kittum Bits sleeping on my feet and Gretty in my lap, I have never felt more alone. I deal with at least a hundred people everyday, and I have never felt more ugly and alone.