You guys, it's hard to blog and have a job at the same time, especially if you can't blog at work because you're busy working. I used to blog at work at my old job, but I had worked there for several years and knew the job well and also worked longer hours than I work now. I was a 7:30 to 5:30 or 6:00 person there, but here, nobody looks askance if you walk out the door after your nine hours are up. Now I am a 7:25 to 4:38 person. And I leave after my boss does. So it's cool.
Still, I have to cram eight hours of work into eight hours, so I'm busy. Plus, before, I didn't have a husband or cats and if you think work can consume your time, you haven't seen anything until you've seen a spouse/pets. Big time suck, a husband. Huge. Nobody told me that part before I got married. Spouses expect attention and they also make the house dirtier than just a person living alone, a person who can ignore the dishes in the sink overnight if she wants to rather than arguing with said spouse about if they should be washed. Also, living in a place where it snows means things take longer. I have to allow 16% more time to get to the bus stop when there is snow or ice on the sidewalks. You have to walk very carefully on icy sidewalks unless you want to slip and fall and break an ankle. Which would maybe not be a bad investment if you could sue the homeowner and get enough to quit your job, but that probably wouldn't happen and then what if your ankle doesn't heal right and you can never wear high heels again and all the beautiful Italian shoes you got on eBay are now wasted?
Not worth it.
Where was I?
Not blogging so much. And blogging late. I'm about to tell you a story about something that happened weeks ago.
But it's still funny.
SH and I went to Pittsburgh over New Year's. As usual, we hired the neighbor kid to feed the cats and water the tree in our absence. He is a nice, nice kid and I have asked his mom not to let him go away to college. He is willing to feed our cats for not very much money and we might be expanding to use him for shoveling now that SH would actually be in charge of the snow removal instead of me. I know, I know. We're both healthy adults and should shovel our own snow. But I leave for work at 6:43 a.m. and don't get home until 5:30 p.m. I'm sure not going to shovel before I go to work and I don't feel like it when I get home. I would say don't shovel at all but then we'd get a fine so it's cheaper to shovel.
SH doesn't want to shovel because he works longer hours than I do and doesn't want to spend his free time shoveling. At least we have the option of hiring someone. Our friends in Pittsburgh live in a tonier neighborhood than we do and the kids in that area don't work. Babysitters get paid $10 an hour! For babysitting! Can you imagine? The most I ever got was a dollar an hour and that's when minimum wage was about $3.50. So I got far less than minimum wage. Now sitters get more than minimum wage. I was born at the wrong time.
We hired this nice kid to feed the cats. When we returned home, Laverne was whining and whining and whining that she was soooo hungry, which is how she acts every time it gets anywhere close to 5:30 or whenever I walk in the door in the evening, whichever is sooner.
She was lying. She wasn't that hungry at all. Why? Because our catsitter had left us a raspberry kringle as a little Christmas gift. Laverne took one look at it and said, "I think raspberry kringle is for cats" and chewed through the paper wrapping and ate a good chunk of the kringle. SH didn't care because he doesn't like raspberry anyhow (remember the "ends in -erry" rule?) but I love raspberries and I like kringle, so I was bugged. I cut the edges away from the part that Laverne had eaten, threw them in the trash, and didn't wonder when I saw that she actually left food in her dish, which has happened one other time since we got the cats. That was when she was sick and I had to pay the vet $109 for a shot. She got better.
We unpacked and put away all the cheese we had bought in Pittsburgh and argued about laundry strategy - I have given SH the blanket statement that at some point, I will do laundry, so if he wants his dirty clothes washed, he should put them down the chute.
That's another timesuck in marriage: when I was single, I just washed my dirty clothes and didn't have to have any discussions about it. I also didn't have to discuss knife placement or dishdrainer strategy.
Then we went to bed.
I slept. SH slept. I got up at 6:00 a.m. and went to work. SH sent me a facebook message: "Laverne has been a very bad girl. I'll tell you when you get home."
I got home.
SH: Didn't you hear her last night?
Me: No. What are you talking about?
SH: At midnight! I woke up because Laverne was making the about to vomit noise!
I hate that noise. I have rushed to grab the cat and move her to an uncarpeted section of the house. Cats have an affinity for rugs and carpets when they throw up. My friend Ilene says it's because they need to hold on to something as they retch, which makes sense, but honestly, we have floor covering on about 10% of our floors and darned if the cats don't find it every time.
Me: I didn't hear.
SH: I don't know how you couldn't.
Me: So what happened?
SH: She threw up all the kringle! And it was disgusting! [I will spare you the rest of what he said.]
SH: Well, I cleaned it up.
Me: Without waking me up?
SH: Did you want me to wake you up to help?