Slap & Tickle

Happy 5th of July!

Working on the 5th of July… what a pointless endeavor. It’s like working the day after Thanksgiving—is anyone else in the world working (except for those poor bastards in retail)?

If I had done any of the things I did this morning, I still would not be at work, as it stands, I was almost here on time. I went to the gym at 5:30—no one was there—and why would anyone be there? They’re home nursing a massive hangover. I took a long shower, buffed my feet (damn, are they callused), moisturized those calluses (ahhhh), went to Starbucks (mmmmmMocha!), wandered into the bakery next door and pondered getting a turkey & cheese filled croissant, thought better of it, and then bought one anyhow (thus negating the entire morning workout). I hit the freeway at 7:30, the moment I was supposed to be at work, and still managed to pull into my parking space at 7:50. No traffic at all. God Bless The United States of Slacking America.

So now, I’m sitting here, wondering why I completed so much work before I left on Tuesday… I’ve got nothing to do. I keep walking around asking people how they are doing, do they need help, how was the fourth, are you as bored as me, etc. Most of our conversations end with a whimper and I wander off… to torture some other poor soul with my inane banter.

I’m sure there is work to be done… somewhere. But I want to go out and play! The foothills are right outside the door to my building (okay, across campus, but I can see them from where I’m typing). I want to go lay in the grass (and that is right outside the front door). I want to be a part of this glorious day!

Actually, I want to take a nap. Not only am I bored, but tired.

Not that I did anything for the last two days. I did some laundry, but have neglected to fold it, so it is sitting on my unmade bed (the sheets were part of the loads of laundry). Lethargy is my word for the day… week… month… year… (life?)

…sigh…

I thought of a bunch of interesting things to right this morning, but none of them inspire me right now.

I’ll try to jump start my desire to write… hmmm… nope. Nothing.

I watched the fireworks last night. Alone. All by myself. How f’ing sad is that? There I sat among thousands of people, all alone, going “ooh… ahh…” Ugh.

Four Hoochie-Mamas sat down by me and proceeded to discuss, in no particular order, the following: being drunk; going to parties; “that whore, Carlise;” being whores themselves; that cute guy Nathan… no, not that guy, the taller one, with the hair; his friend Kevin, “even though he’s short and stuff, he’s got a big one. No, I swear! It was like so gross… and it was cool;” how drunk they got at that party; how sex in high school was always good, because they didn’t know any better; whatever happened to that bitch Celia, “she still owes me ten bucks;” throwing up in the pool “at that hella cool house where Dan was that time and nobody was there but us and it was so weird, ‘cuz he totally said there were going to be a bunch of people at that party and it was only us and those two ugly dudes… yes, totally weird;” and on and on they yammered.

Needless to say, I was bored out of my mind and listened to every foul-mouthed word they uttered. I wanted to hear more about Kevin and his “big one.” Not a whole lot on that dude.

On the way back, I went to use the restroom at the Fairmont—far less horrific than I thought. I thought it might be packed with all the revelers leaving at the same time, but only two teenagers were pissing and talking. How they can talk and piss at the same time is beyond me. I talk to myself constantly, but find when I’m at a urinal, I’m surprisingly silent. I just don’t like chatter and piss.

These kids were just chatting away… moving forward and back—checking distance? Cock size?—who knew? Anyhow, as I was starting to walk away, I heard one of the guys say, “Dude, you’ve got total bone.” To which, the other guy responded with an appropriate and desperate: “Dude!” I’m assuming he was noting that I was still in the room, because when I turned back, they were both looking at me, while shielding their exposed bits and pieces. I gave them my patented “what the fuck” look, washed my hands and moved on.

Neither of them was very cute, so the thought of them doing some sort of Bel Ami hot porn in the bathroom was not something I was going to actively ponder. Instead, I left and walked behind the ugliest family in the world, any thought of sex went completely out of my mind.

I’ve been housesitting for Larry & Shawn. Actually, I’ve barely been doing that. I stop in twice a day, feed the cats, feed the fish, water the plants, pet the one cat that will come near me and leave. I’ve now got my moves down so I can do an arc through the apartment and be in and out in less than 10 minutes. Twice, I’ve stayed a little longer to pet the cats and make sure they aren’t going bonkers.

Harley, likes attention and comes up to me and meows for me to pet him and get covered in white cat hair. I swear, even when I don’t pet him or sit down, I can still leave that apartment covered in cat hair. Mika (I think that’s how it’s spelled--there's probably a Y in there to make it exotic...) ignores me completely. Whenever I try and pet her, she moves away. Fine. Whatever. Bitch.

After the fireworks, I stop by the apartment for the final feeding of the day and Mika is nowhere to be found. I search and search and search with no luck. The apartment is not that big… where is she? Then I began to wonder if somehow, she got out. I look off the balcony for blood. Nothing. I start moving things… heavy things (bookcases)… irrational things (newspapers on the floor—like the cat has become flat since 10:30 that morning). Still nothing.

I sat down, trying to get my story straight. I began to wonder if Mika sneaked out when I was leaving, or maybe she was on the balcony when I was watering the flowers and she finally couldn’t take it any longer and jumped.

I tried to get Harley to help, but he seemed to only want to play with the rubber mouse. Occasionally, he’d run over to an area and I’d think Lassie was taking me to find Jimmy in the well. Alas, no, it was another rubber mouse.

I sat down again, defeated. While Harley scratched and played with my toes (I was thinking of it as penance for losing his playmate), I tried to think of what I was going to tell Larry & Shawn about how I lost their f’ing cat.

Harley took a small chunk from my toe and I yelped, as I pulled my leg up to inspect the damage, Harley went to work on the other foot and I saw movement to my left. It was Mika, calmly strolling into the room looking bored. She had that “what are you doing here?” look on her face.

I asked her where she had been and she looked back towards the closet I had ransacked earlier. “You were hiding because of the fireworks, weren’t you?” I smiled. Ignoring me, Mika went to the tall, cabinet at the far end of the room and lazily stretched out, trying to look incredibly casual.

The way the fireworks were booming through the downtown and the car alarms it had set off convinced me that Mika had run to hide in the closet. Now that it was over, she was trying to act cool and collected.

I walked over to her and told Mika I knew she was scared. Harley, looked up with that “You go” expression on her face. Mika would have none of it. In fact, she rolled over and faced the wall. I turned on the television to the fireworks and brought up the sound. The first bang of the fireworks and Mika was moving like a bolt of lightening back into the closet. Harley sat in front of the TV cleaning his paw…. Probably thinking “chicken S’t.”

I gave Harley a pat on the head and a wave to the chicken of the closet and went home. Back to my bed that I still haven’t put sheets on… or the mattress pad… and slept for 8 hours. It was a good restful sleep. So why is it all I can think of doing right now is take a long nap?