She’s outside most of the day now. Just look at her; what a beauty. Bug hunter extraordinaire. She also brought me a vole once, for which she got praises. Remember all those mice I caught and released, the first two winters? Now it’s the circle of life. She gets to excel in her Catness and I get to not worry about rodents in the garden and the house. I am not less compassionate; I am less lonely.
Our last Connecticut gig was last night. It was oversold, but I managed to get family and a few friends in under the wire. My cute bank teller with the hidden-under-sleeves tattoos also finally came. There was a gathering at a restaurant afterwards, and I asked to see them. They’re bold and complex. He said he also has some on his back and I don’t know where else. He also recently got a “Don’t Panic” in Japanese on his forearm, because he says there are often moments of panic at the bank, and it helps him to pull up his sleeve and look at it. It turns out he’s in his late 30s, not mid 20s as I had expected. He looks so like a kid.
Snow was also there, and it was a great night out for her. She had a hard week; her stepmother suddenly went in for heart surgery a few days ago, and she was worried to the point of tears all day over it. We laughed a lot and poked each other at the table. ”I’m not touching you! I’m not touching you!”
Thoroughly satisfying; made more so by the fact that I was horribly sick all week with a cold, and got better enough JUST in time to pull off the gig. It was a downright miracle.
I had other things to write about. I’m too restless now. I need to plant day lilies someone gave me, and clean this place — every surface is cluttered with stuff and I can’t stand it any more; I’m embarrassing even myself with my slovenliness — and there is bread to be made and a crockpot waiting for some ingredients. I am happy about the gig. I have a crush on my teller. My fingers are a disaster, but that’s the only thing wrong at the moment.
