adorable the cost/benefit analysis of having a cat

The cost/benefit analysis of having a cat (as if I need to do one)

Junior and I are cat people, and we find ourselves now without a cat for the first time since he was born. After an illness that didn’t respond to treatment, we sent our 17 year-old cat across the rainbow bridge to Valhalla last year, which was a difficult time for all involved. For the most part I found that having a cat wasn’t terribly expensive (until he got sick in his older years), but now that I’m thinking of getting another, I decided to take some time to think it through.

So here it is—the cost/benefit analysis of having a cat.

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Never stop learning chalkboard - thoughts on being a successful high school dropout

Thoughts on being a successful high school dropout

I just can’t believe that my English teacher marked me down in high school for using too many parenthetical statements in my text. To be fair, he usually liked my work and I low-key suspect it was a ploy to make sure no one knew I was his favorite. (I mean really? Too many parentheses? Say it ain’t so.) Any concern I had is a bit silly now, because nothing he said ultimately mattered. I dropped out of high school.

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Top 3 reasons I have too much crap

I am a single woman with one kid and that is a picture of my garage. You may notice that it contains a royal shit ton of boxes. Oddly enough, I noticed the same thing. Some of the boxes contain stuff belonging to Junior, but most of them are mine. Worse yet, they are the boxes that don’t contain anything we need from day to day – our house is already unpacked.

I’ve opened a few of the boxes as I moved them to see what’s inside, and then promptly closed them up again. Today I found myself wondering what it is that has me close them up and leave them for Future Me to deal with. I’ve come up with three impulses that happen upon opening one of the Boxes of Forgotten Needs.

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plant in concrete still alive

Ohhhh, whooooa, I’m still alive…

I am a creature of habit. Once I get into a routine, I pretty much like to stay there. It’s comfortable. It’s safe. I like to know what to expect. As much as I’d like to convince myself that I’m a freewheeling spontaneous type, this isn’t really the case unless I’m having impulse control issues, and that’s rather the exception than the rule.

So when Junior came to live with me two weeks earlier than planned in March, and my routine went flying out the window, I immediately went into mental health damage control mode. I’m still here, I’m still alive, just flopping around somewhat like a fish out of water.

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