Saturday, July 21, 2018

Post Stub: Coming Up

This is a post about a post I haven't written yet.

Precocious Daughter is cleaning out her closet and organizing her room in preparation for moving into the dorms.


But that's a meltdown for another day.
Anyway, she doesn't want her room looking like a disaster area when she leaves, partly because she knows I'm not going to lift a finger to clean it while she's at school, so if she doesn't want to find slime oozing down the walls over Thanksgiving break, she'd better get it in order now. That's called managing expectations.

She's doing it mostly herself, but I'm lending a hand with bagging up trash and donations, and offering a thumbs-up-thumbs-down as to which is which. At one point she pulled out a delightful alpaca figure made of real alpaca.

Softer than something really, really soft.
We both agreed that Al P. Aca is not going anywhere. We also agreed that he should no longer reside in PDaughter's closet but should join the eclectic decor in the living room.

Which made me think.

Occupational hazard.
We've been here in our little fourth-floor apartment for approaching three years. And the decor hasn't changed very much in that time. A few additions, a few minor rearrangements, but otherwise the place looks pretty much as it did when we moved in.

Mind you, it looks awesome. PDaughter and I picked it all out, we bought it, in many cases we assembled it. It is us, and it is home.

But in light of the huge change that is about to occur - namely, that it's about to become much more my home than our home - I'm thinking it's time to switch things up.

That's doesn't mean buying more furniture. There's nothing here that's more than three years old, and I have neither the desire nor the ability to throw out perfectly good stuff and buy different stuff just for the sake of change. It also doesn't mean painting or changing the floors. It's an apartment. I'm going to lose enough of my deposit because the Siamese Kitten has destroyed the weatherstripping on the French doors with her pointy-bits; I don't need to be charged to repaint my whimsical preference for smoky amethyst on the walls.

Still my dream color.
But it's probably time to cycle out some of my tchotchkes and artwork, and let some pieces currently stored away take their place in the spotlight. Change out the books on display. Get a few new accent pieces to update the palette of the place. That kind of thing.

I'd love your help.

So before my next post, I'm going to take pictures of what's currently decorating my apartment and let you vote on which pieces stay and which get retired. I'd also love to see images of or links to items you think should join me. Any kind of inspiration will be welcome.

If you're willing to help, I'd appreciate the assistance.

Pictures coming next post.

Friday, July 13, 2018

Sleepless Night, with Thoughts of Cat

To quote Elton John:

It's four o'clock in the morning, dammit, listen to me good.

I have insomnia, and I'm stretched out on my sofa, staring at my computer.

My Siamese Kitten is stretched out with me, sound asleep.

And I just realized that this "kitten" is almost 12 years old.

She seems the picture of health. She zooms, and yowls, and jumps to the tops of the kitchen cabinets. Just like any cat in the prime of life.

But as she lies here next to me, I notice that her fur seems thicker and denser...because it's covering less flesh. And I can clearly see the outlines of her shoulder blades, and her spine, in repose.

She is aging.

We're all aging. I'm a damn middle-aged woman. Precocious Daughter has become an adult with a car and a job, and she will start college in a few weeks.

My parents, somehow, are elderly.

Yet I'm fixated on my cat.

She came into our lives when PDaughter was in first grade. I hope that she'll be here in four years when PDaughter gets her degree. That would be sweet.

The Siamese Kitten has saved my life on more than one occasion. Just by being here.

I hope she continues to be here.

And you guys, too.

I hope you've slept well.