Wouldn’t Have It Any Other Way

By now you know I live with 10 pets — three dogs and seven cats.

Notice I didn’t say they live with ME because in reality I live with THEM. And boy do they know it. I’m a bit outnumbered, especially with my cats. So consequently, what I want is of no interest to them. My purpose in their eyes? Make sure their bellies are full, and to accommodate them, use no more than the very edge of my king size bed.

Now don’t get me wrong; I’m not complaining. And lest you think otherwise, I’m actually sane (although it may not seem that way to petless people). But that’s fine with me. You’re entitled to your opinion, however erroneous it may be. Fortunately, I don’t fault you for it.

I’ve lived alone now for nearly 15 years, if having a ton of pets can be considered living alone. I guess I should say I’m the only human in my house. It was my first time going solo since I left my parents home to share a rental with Sharon.

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Could The Tide Be Turning?

I’ll start by saying I believe I’m a pretty decent driver. After all, I’ve been behind the wheel for 52 years so I’ve had a ton of practice. In all that time, I’ve received only two moving violations, better known as tickets. But it’s not like I follow all the rules of the road. In fact, I’m a bit of a speed demon. A lead foot, if you will.

Now don’t get me wrong; I’m no Danica Patrick. But on the freeway, I’m rarely in the slow lane unless I’m exiting. Mostly I go with the flow, as my high school driver’s ed teacher suggested. Can I help it if the flow is going 75 mph? Besides, it’s not like I zigzag between lanes like a ball in a pinball machine.

Danica
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A Questionable Start to 2024

Okay, so this is getting weird. A couple weeks ago I blogged about how 2023 ended on a bad note but hoped 2024 would have a better start. Well, so much for hope. Now don’t get me wrong; 2024 isn’t a lost cause because we’re only 35 days into it but I have to say I’m not lovin’ the trend here. Why not, you ask? Partly because I’m a…

For instance, last week I lost a set of keys for my work vehicle. The keys included my one and only house key plus an unidentified key which I have no clue of its purpose. Still, I kept it on my key chain holder in case I happen to remember. (Yeah right, like THAT’S gonna happen.) The thing is, the battery died in that key fob so I locked the car by inserting the key into the door, thereby preventing me from locking it inside.

I was at Marin Humane, rushing to drive 20 cats 2 hours north for a spay/neuter clinic. Running just 50 feet from the SUV to the feral cat room, this nincompoop somehow managed to lose the keys. I’m telling you, they disappeared like a puff of smoke in the wind. My saving grace? Transporting the cats in Marin Humane’s huge van.

My guess is the keys will turn up eventually, even though I searched every square inch of those 50 feet. But in the meantime, I need to buy another key fob and have more house keys made. But good riddance to the unidentified key which no doubt one day I’ll regret losing. Oh dear keys…

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Listening to my Innards

premonition

Do you believe in premonitions? I suppose some would call it intuition, instinct, or maybe simply a feeling. Whatever, I find it fascinating, mostly because it happens to me a lot. Sometimes I’ve ignored the message and it causes me grief of some sort, as if to say, I told you so! Why didn’t you listen?

So now that I’m older and dare I say wiser, I’m finally good at listening to my innards, so to speak. How about you?

listening

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Does Wisdom Really Come With Age?

(I reprinted this post from 2013, which sadly is still relevant today.)

They say with age comes wisdom. I’m not so sure I believe that. You see, I’m not exactly a spring chicken so you’d think I’d be pretty smart by now, wouldn’t you? There’s no doubt I’ve learned stuff along the way that’s helped me navigate through life. But in some areas I’m still quite lacking. And for that I blame my poor memory. How can I acquire this wisdom if my memory is on strike?

For instance, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve misplaced my keys. When I walk into the house, I should have a routine where I put them, don’t you think? Sounds reasonable to me. If I had a routine it would go like this: place the keys in a bowl on the counter. How hard is that? Apparently very.

Where my keys should go

My mind is like a game of leap frog. It jumps from one thing to another. So by the time I exit the car, walk to the door, open it and walk in, I’m already on to another thought. I think I’ll make myself a grilled cheese sandwich then water the annuals. Oh, and I suppose I should fertilize while I’m at it. And so it goes…

Any conscious thought about keys became lost within the 20-foot span it took me to get into the house. Poof!

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