There's something that I do, a certain habit of thought, that sometimes strikes even me as strange, which made me wonder if it's one of those things that others do, or if I'm just that odd. Want to weigh in? It's a single-person habit, but even if you're not single now, you were once, right?
Although I've dated here and there, now and then, I've never been in a serious, long-term, or cohabitating relationship (we'll leave "why" for another day, or perhaps therapy). Certainly, I find the idea of a good relationship with the right guy appealing, but it hasn't happened yet, and I don't spend much time thinking about it. Que sera, sera.
When I do think about it, though, more often than not, it isn't a soft-focused, romantic musing on how I want to be loved. Instead, it's generally very practical.
"I wish someone else was around to shovel the snow."
"I wish it was someone else's turn to make dinner."
"I wish I could leave the car at the repair shop, instead of having to wait."
"I wish someone would make me soup and bring me juice when I'm sick."
It isn't that I want a servant--well, who am I kidding, of course that would be great! But when these thoughts cross my mind, I'm not picturing myself ordering or even asking someone to do things. I'm imagining someone who does some of the things that need doing, some of the many tasks involved in living.
Now, granted, it's idealized, but doesn't it sound lovely? I know everyone's relationship isn't like that, I know there are people who don't do things like that for their partners, but you know, there are people who do all that and much more. (And if I'm going to dream, it may as well be good, right? The right guy would want to take care of me. Perhaps he would express that with a kiss, or perhaps by getting my oil changed. Whatever.)
What made me think of this today was the idea of times when it's really helpful to have four hands available. (Like the time when I bought a DIY computer desk, which came in a box about 4 feet long and a foot wide and an inch high, weighing many pounds, and a pizza guy had to help me get the box out of my car. No, really.) As, for instance, cat-shuffling.
In the course of preparing for introducing a new cat to the household, I read this
Once your new cat is using her litter box and eating regularly while confined, let her have free time in the house while confining your other animals to the new cat's room. This switch provides another way for the animals to experience each other's scents without a face-to-face meeting. It also allows the newcomer to become familiar with her new surroundings without being frightened by the other animals.
Well. It sounds like a good idea, doesn't it? It may even be a good idea. But in order to get it done, here's what I had to do: close Harold in the bathroom (to his great and suspicious displeasure); take Her Highness to the bedroom and close her in there; take Himself from the bathroom into the office; open the bedroom door so Her Highness can roam around.
It's like a shell game, with cats.
I did try to cut corners this morning. I was giving Harold a lap, and could hear Herself at the office door, expressing an interest in coming out. So, I carried Harold over and opened the office door, thinking that she would come out and I could pop him in, easy. Except that she was moving cautiously (not that I blame her), and did not get far enough from the door to let me get him by, and he started getting all "what's going on there", and I had to let him down. He said, "Hiss!" and retreated to the living room, and she was happy to get back in the office. And I gave up on the shortcut.
I did it the other way tonight, and it pretty much worked. Except that Harold gave me the cold shoulder for a solid five minutes after because what, don't I love him anymore and why did I bring some other cat into his house and why do I spend time with her and why why why?
And I admit, I wanted to smack him and yell that I'm doing this for him, doesn't he understand how much this is taking out of me and holy maria, what do I have to do!
Which does not translate into Cat.
Labels: cats, Lindsay