I'm still aching, especially my left arm, shoulder, and knee, from taking a slight tumble on the stairs. I was helping my husband carry down an old desk for Goodwill and thought I'd reached the last step before the landing. Instead, I had two more steps, so I fell forward. He was on the downside of the desk, and the desk was between us, so he couldn't even reach me to help me. I really can't say I was seriously hurt--I could have been, but wasn't. Still, I feel rather like people report feeling the day after a minor car accident--sore, bruised, stiff, but not outwardly injured. I do have a large black bruise on my left knee, but that knee stays so discolored, it's almost the norm for it. At any rate, I certainly don't feel much like doing anything that requires energy today. This week just about wiped me out.
Several people reported being upset about the 1984 production. One of my friends left at intermission, he told me, because he was offended. I apologized to my students and told them I was sorry I'd even asked them to go to it. One students said his communication teacher had required them to go, but after seeing it, told them not to write the paper about it that had originally been part of the assignment. Only a couple of people said they had liked it.
It's unusually hot for October, or so report our local weather folk. I'm not at all upset about having the air conditioner turned on. Once the heat is turned on, that's when the drier air will cause my sinuses to ache constantly.
My cat is acting like he doesn't feel well. He hasn't been eating much, and he's thrown up quite a bit. That's not unusual for him, but he is getting older--he was ten this year. I've heard that long-haired cats don't live as long as short-haired cats. My former cat, who now lives with my son and his wife, is 13 going on 14 and has had two cancers removed. I'll probably never have another cat live as long as our old calico, who made it to 21. When it's time for Simon to go, I hope he doesn't linger and suffer. I wouldn't have the courage and heart to have him put to sleep (I hate that euphemism!), yet it would be awful to have him suffer terribly. I spent a long time petting him this morning (he never gets enough!), and then of course, he abandoned me to find a nice spot to sleep for most of the day. That is, after he failed in his attempt to "herd" me upstairs, which is where he expects me to be after my morning coffee. I slept a bit late this morning, so that threw him off his game.
I love to watch him go downstairs. That tail is held high and bounces, so his rear looks like the backside of a leaping white-tailed deer. Except longer, much hairier, and lower to the ground.
When Simon sits in my lap and looks at me, the expression on his face is so intelligent. I often feel as if he's willing me to understand him. For the most part, I think I do understand him, but then there are times that I am quite convinced that cats are the superior species and gaze upon us with despair because we slow-witted humans can't comprehend every nuance. I've gotten pretty good at translating cat-tail English, though. There are different rhythms and arcs to his tail-swishing. Sometimes, he's expressing pure pleasure. Sometimes, he's letting me know that he's answering me. Even if I'm not touching him, if he's on my ottoman with his tail toward my knees, he "answers" my words to him with tail-swishing responses. If he grows irritated with me (i.e., I haven't spoken to him for a few minutes and he's worried that I've forgotten he's there, his tail-swishing turns into tail-slapping, with a definite brisk whipping back and forth.)
I do love that wee beastie. And he knows it. He loves me too. God, I sound like an old cat lady. I admit, there are times I wish we had more than Simon, but he doesn't like us to have another cat. And with his stomach issues and special (expensive) food, it would be hard to have another cat. But really, he's such a satisfactory little fellow that we don't really need another one. He's loving, affectionate, cute, cuddly, and interactive. There will never be another with his personality, although I've seen quite a few photos of cats that look a lot like him. One is included with this blog. That isn't Simon, but it looks much like him.
My husband has returned from playing golf. Guess I'd better act more energetic and at least engage in meaningful spousal conversation. --Dr. S.
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