Caterwauling

Or AquariYus, as some internet rando would say.

There’s this delight online who can’t get me out of their head.

I peek in every couple of days to see if they should go as a sane person for Halloween, since no one would ever guess it’s them.

Check, check.

Which is it, was I just a blip and nothing and it wasn’t a relationship … or am I some ex-girlfriend who’s allegedly posting songs about an ex-boyfriend?

Also ya silly nincompoop, the song is about being in a relationship and meeting someone else new. And also ya friggin’ nut, it was on my car radio and I thought it had a good beat. I didn’t even look up the lyrics till you obsessed about it in (en?) tweet.

When you need help with that “sane person” costume, LMK.

I gave a friend a reference to work at a company where an old boss works.

Two days in, she hates it.

I Googled him and found a fairly recent YouTube video featuring him.

His ability to blather for 47 minutes like he’s the smartest person on earth still takes my breath away.

She and I worked for another guy who was super nice but provided zero in the way of leadership.

It got me to thinking about which is worse: bad leadership or NO leadership at all?

It really all came down to empowerment, for me.

I had the lousiest of leadership, but he also got the F out of my way after he was done obfuscating, boring and excoriating me.

Then fast-forward a few years, and the other stayed right the F in my way after ofuscating, boring and excoriating me.

The latter never did tell me how to please them. Just reminded me that I didn’t. Eventually I quit trying.

These days, I have just the right mix of involvement and getting out of the way. For the most part, the involvement is valuable and valid.

Anyway, you don’t really appreciate good leadership until you’ve had the other kinds.

I always loved starting new WordPress blogs. The very first sample post was titled “Hello, world,” and it hinted at all the possibilities that your brand-new blog held.

I thought about this blog today. Not how it’s been offline for a million years. But how I started it before I left Pennsylvania. How it helped me reason my way through Virginia, Maryland and a trip down I-95 to South Florida.

My return here from beyond the veil today doesn’t mean I’ll be providing whack-off fodder to folx who — based on a meme they recently posted — finally realized that I don’t get jealous of losers.

Or maybe I will. Post, that is. Never get jealous. XD

Talk soon … maybe.

Had a weird dream. A colleague was driving me to a meeting. It was at a house I had zero plans to set foot in again. But here we were.

It was awkward of course. One occupant clearly wanted to say hello to me but his electric shock collar jolted him every time eye contact was attempted. Someone else forbade me from using the bathroom — they poured kitty litter into Shock Collar’s lazy chair and said have at it.

What would be really nice is to see people in dreams as often I do in person. Which is not at all.

Maybe next time I’ll get lucky and dream of Freddy Krueger instead.

No, not me. God.

But, two old colleagues who were married to others when I met them.

They seemed the least likely of the strange couplings to make it. But it appears all couplings except all mine worked out.

Que sera.

They look good together. He looks about 40 years younger than he should. We always thought she was one of those serial killer wives from the ID Channel.

Not sure whatever happened to her first husband. I guess if this one ever goes missing, we’ll know. Boys do love them some crazy.

The crystal shop painted over its blue flamingo.

Now it’s just a bland, beige concrete wall.

Fitting.

Sleeping with Jasper.

Onyx!

Er … On it!

I was just washing dishes after I put a pizza in the oven.

A pizza … overnighted from PITTSBURGH!

And I laughed and laughed about some dipshit who subtweeted me that it “must be nice to not have a house to clean.”

Same nutbag who said it “must be nice to not have kids.”

Same tweet, in fact.

This of course preceded tweets — complete with photos showing their propped-up Sasquatch feet — bragging that someone else in the house was out paying the maid while she lazed.

You didn’t think I could find out. I saw the messages.

Anyway.

I’ll just get back to making lunch, cleaning the house, working and taking care of people who need it … and I’ll do it with gratitude and not complaint.

I’ll also do it without being tempted in the least to see what absolute fucking stupidity this post will inspire on Twitter.

I used to feed a colony of kitties behind a store.

Then one day, some nasty biatch came out of the store and told me some other nasty biatch complained about me. So, shoo. Don’t you come back now, y’hear.

I laughed in her face. I’d been threatened with dogs and weapons before that date. I even had a Black man with an unleashed pit bull call the cops on me for feeding the ducks.

Like bitch, I ain’t scared of none of you. Also, I even asked the cop, what Black man calls the cops on a white woman? You’re lucky I’m no Karen and he’s lucky you’re a red-headed wuss.

(I’m lucky I lived…)

Then one night, my car broke down there. No big, just the battery. But it was a long wait in the rain with zero power. Which means the car doesn’t lock. Super fun.

So I took a break. A month in Key West kind of break.

I came back and some of my animals didn’t know me. But they were still grateful for the foodz. Eventually I got it down to once a week. Then I got it down to “if that.”

Meantime, I adopted a colony at my own compound. I still get shit from the property owners, like I did at the store. But they mostly harass someone else who is way more visible about it.

Her favorite is a tiny white cat, Amelia. My favorite was a tiny black cat, who closes his eyes when anyone walks by so we won’t see him.

Amelia is funny. I went to feed her the other night, and she wanted to tell me that the black cat was on the other side of the car that I was feeding her on.

(They all wait under my car, then we go to a van with an ACLU sticker for feeding time.)

I said, I know, honey. I got you both.

I put food out for the other kitty, who sat under the van and kept his eyes closed. Amelia supervised. I took a few steps away, and I could see she went back to her food. And I saw open eyes over the other meal.

Now we have a new kitty.

I was calling him Nutmeg because he looks like a kitty I babysat not long ago. My friend calls him Poppins because he hides in the bushes and pops out when he sees our ankles.

Now I call him my little Jalapeño Popper.

Popper loves to weave in and out of my ankles. I would probably be covered in fur if I didn’t shave my legs religiously, pretty much the one pre-pandemic ritual I couldn’t part with.

He doesn’t even want to eat till I leave. He just cherishes our petting and play time. It’s sweet and sad and heart-wrenching and joy-inducing, all in those moments we get before I leave to feed the ducks on the other side of the complex.

Anyway. I don’t have any stories. Just love these little fur-beasts so much.

I never really wanted kids because I was afraid I wouldn’t love them enough. But cats? Love. Love, love, love.

Hope my Popper has a safe place to sleep. This is a nice, quiet place by the sea. I just really, really hope someone else nice feeds him or takes him in. But considering I only have one friend in a compound of 100 mostly foreign-owned units, I’m going to guess not.

Good night, kitties.