Disclaimer: If nothing else, perhaps my journal page will help you appreciate your own lives and all of their exciting complexities in comparison to some of the mundane things that I report disguised as journalism.
Today, I came home from work to find a package on my front steps. A package! I love packages!
I approached the cardboard box with curious joy and found that it was addressed to "Reefie C." and then my last name. It was addressed to my cat. The "C" I suppose stands for his middle name of "Cat". Hey...at least whoever sent this package has a sense of humor....
It turns out that it was some medicine that my vet had ordered from a holistic pharmacy for Reefie's thyroid condition. I came through the front door and immediately spied Sir Kitty on the chair. I announced to him that he had mail and decided that I would go ahead and get the medicating done.
I sat down and opened the package to find a bunch of syringes full of medication and oodles of tiny little condoms. I swear to god. Like little Trojans made for Keebler elves, they congregated in the corner of the box all rolled up and waiting. I stared at them for a second with what could have only been a code red degree of shock as I wondered where I was about to have to put this medicine. The vet had originally said something about his ears and I hoped that the equation of ears, syringes and itty bitty condoms would soon make sense. I swallowed hard.
I read the literature and it said that I must use these on my fingers to keep things sterile....and yes, on his ears. I slipped one on my finger (remembering what I learned in Sex Ed.) and approached him. He didn't like it anymore than I did. Here I was fighting this cat as I tried to get a greased-up condom in his ear. My eyes darted towards the windows to make sure my neighbor or the members of the church next door weren't watching.
I fell backwards on the floor and reached over for the literature and reading it again learned that this little production has to be done not once but twice a day. So, kids.......now you know how I'll spend a little portion of my days. Tiny condom on finger. Chasing cat. Insert profanities and mixed drinks here.
And now, so that you don't think that this is perhaps the strangest or most uninteresting journal entry ever, I am going to insert one that I read today on someone else's website:
"so, I left work the other day and walked to the weekly free concert in the park. I noticed a not so comfortable feeling in my....southern region. I'm thinking unfortunate creepage of a seam, or a fart that was more wet than expected from earlier in the day had finally dried into a fecal crust or something. but it didn't seem to smell and I couldn't adjust it, so I keep walking, trying to determine what it was while not making those clandestine ' I 've got a load in my drawers' side-steps that you see bums do sometimes.
I finally settle on it being a post-it note between my cheeks and that seems to make me comfortable enough with the whole thing to get on with my day, so I enjoy the concert and have a couple of drinks with a friend and go home.
By the time I was getting ready for bed I had forgotten all about it. when I take my underwear off, a shiny new quarter drops out of my underwear.
I'm not sure which is weirder, that I had a quarter inexplicably appear in my jockeys, or that I was entirely comfortable with a post-it note inexplicably appearing in my underwear."
Okay......so, the next time you think that my journal entries defy explanation, remember that there are people out there like this guy.
And a note to my parents: Believe it or not...... I am NOT dating him.
