The Thing That Wouldn’t Go Away
There was a period of time recently — as in, within the last two years — that my parents called me “the thing that wouldn’t go away,” because I was visiting often and staying for a while each time. I believe that Snowmageddon 2009 and Snowpocalypse 2010 had something to do with that.
As I sat here photoshopping away on random projects and fun things, watching Carrie and the girls brunch and date and drink all over New York, I heard a noise and realized that I have a thing that won’t go away.
The thing’s name is Prince and I am immediately ashamed to have broken a February resolution (take fewer pictures of the cats) on only the fourth day of the month. As soon as I turned, looked and acknowledged that the thing was there, sitting on the back of the couch just behind my head, that was his cue.
The thing has risen and is thrilled that after [potentially] hours of sitting just behind my head, I have finally paid him some attention.
It was less than a second before he moseyed down from his perch to investigate the screen, the warm computer, my lap, and basically the best possible strategy for getting in my way.
And Heaven forbid I move to answer the phone and then spend whole minutes talking to someone and not paying attention to the thing.
Meanwhile, the other thing is wrestling a catnip sardine on the floor, I’m trying to get back to work and am feeling increasingly like I’m almost 75 rather than 25.
C’est la vie.