my boyfriend is very allergic to cats– and then there's this:
which is what happens after about five minutes of petting them.
at first I was all, okay, the katz must go. you are wheezing and developing hives. my home is actively making you sick.
and then i confronted the reality of this decision, on top of my pet history and the positions I've taken in the past on other people's disposals and displacements of animals– I have been a judger, it is true. I have drawn rather hard lines around the ethics of pet ownership and am now being called to account by the universe.
because it's sort of starting to look like maybe the human being needs to take priority over the housepets in this scenario. I've kind of been digging in my heels over the last several weeks, weighing some other options, bathing regularly to reduce allergens and whatnot– but the truth is, I also know what kind of a housekeeper/pet groomer I am. i.e. not the more assiduous. I'm not even all that ardent about my own grooming, so you can bet that, despite whatever sky-high intentions I might embrace, it's just not gonna happen.
what are the alternatives? these are my, for better or worse, fuzzy sweethearts. I'm a big goosh. I cuddle my animals quite a bit, ordinarily, and so they've come to expect and to crave this level and type of attention. how do I begin to find another place in the world that would be good for them? this seems like an impossible conundrum to me– because, simply, once they're out of my hands, they're no longer mine and I have no say, really. they must become an integral part of someone else's household however that must work. and I'm having a really really difficult time coming to grips with this and initiating the process.
for now I guess this is all I want to say. this is the dilemma I am currently sitting with. maybe it sounds kind of dumb in the scope of things, but it's mine, and it feels big.
there is not enough time.
I said I would not stop blogging, and I'll be damned if I do, but apparently we're experiencing a bit of a lull.
even this morning I don't really have the time to do this, but still I must say something.
about the spring, about the anticipation of exciting thunderstorms we're supposed to be having today, about depart-ment this weekend, about random whatevers, whatever I can grab as it floats through the air during the few minutes I have allocated myself this morning.
I left my landlord a note about the tippy toilet well over a week ago, and still no response.
I wrote a paper letter on old letterpress stationary bearing their address (then mine) to my friends heal and maggie and received back a glorious, close-written, illustrated, addended letter in reply, which I am reading ever so slowly, in part aloud, so as to savor.
my car is clean. or was recently. I know you can't believe it. me neither, 'cept I was there when it happened.
my life is scattered entirely over two apartments, one with very little available neighborhood parking but with notable benefit of proximity to one Great Lake.
the cats are shooting me a lot of evil looks and shedding, I think, extra-hard on purpose. little do they know what I have planned for iggy on sunday.
george's toenails are short. I know you can't believe this either, but it too is true.
companywide meeting to hear about the new 401k program this morning at 8:30, so I must now say ENOUGH, hit Save, and dash.
all about it, and tonight it's prickly, sour on the edges– it's a shapely wicked thing. I keep seeing patterns, though not my own. why this urge for hyperarticulated definition? is it all the sourcing laser cutters and wire vendors– bending this way and that with the whims of, too often, others? one of those days, yes. how describe it. how describe. alphabets unwind on me, zigging nonsense– shapely, yes. such a crooked pasta. trails get lost with perspective. I want to be rounder and rounder and still sharp and dimensional.