I had planned to write a witty post this morning about how I quit my job and the how trying to find someone to replace me has my former coworkers in a frenzy. I was going to gloat about how Mrs. Garrett runs late to meetings and curses the day I walked out the door. I was going to write about all of that this morning. Instead, I chased Not a Dingo around the apartment with a pair of scissors.
Not a Dingo had a massive dingleberry hanging from her butt and I had to remove it. It was gross. Really gross. I first noticed it this morning when I smelled a rotten stench on the bed. At the time I blamed it on Mr. Dingo and the delicious burritos we consumed last night. “Very funny, Sweetie,” I said, before making a quick escape to the living room. Well, it wasn’t exactly a quick escape. Not a Dingo sleeps on my pillow and Dingo Girl sleeps across my legs, but I extracted myself as quickly as possible without inflicting bodily injury and hightailed it outta there. The girls were close behind. I did not believe Mr. Dingo’s drowsy denials and was a little miffed that I was driven from bed and robbed of thirty additional minutes of sleep — robbed, I tell you! — by his malodorous wake-up call.
About 20-minutes later, Not a Dingo joined me at my desk. She often takes up residence in my outbox while I am working. When she’s not in my outbox, she’s sitting on my keyboard, trying to sit on my keyboard, or sitting in front of my keyboard with her furry face five inches from mine trying to hypnotize me with those big eyes of hers to get up and get her a treat. So, when my feline inhabited outbox produced the odor of a fully inhabited catbox this morning, I knew that I had unjustly maligned Mr. Dingo — but I didn’t apologize. If he didn’t deserve my censure this morning, he certainly has on other occasions. He had it coming.
Lifting Not a Dingo from her perch I was immediately disgusted and repelled at the nastiness appended to her. And now, you are disgusted and repelled as well. That’s what blogs are for, no? But you didn’t have to wrestle with a pissed-off cat this morning. And neither did Mr. Dingo. Two seconds after I told him of our dilemma, he suddenly had to be at work early for a conference call or some such sorry-I-just-checked-my-calendar-and-noticed-it-have-to-run-don’t-want-to-be-late-very-important-bye thing, and out the door he went. Oh Mr. Dingo, you will get yours….
So, this morning was spent running with scissors. Not a Dingo was far from cooperative. Without getting into the gritty details of this morning’s bout of Twister with my normally docile kitty (because I expended all the grittiness describing Not a Dingo’s poor hygiene), let’s just say that I’m reconsidering our decision not to declaw her and have notified the CDC that my local hospital will need antibiotics to counteract the effects of cat scratch fever.
This was definitely a two-person job. I could not hold a wiggling Not a Dingo and use a pair of scissors to clip a foul-smelling golf ball size mutant appendage while trying to calm Dingo Girl. Yes, Dingo Girl had to get in on the act. Any sign of distress from Not a Dingo caused Dingo Girl to whine, bark, and nudge my elbow with her nose. Between the mewling, gyrating, barking, nudging, stinking, tears and tears, I was truly in awe of people who work from home and manage to be productive.
When I quit my job a little over two weeks ago, I had blissful but seemingly realistic visions of morning workouts in Central Park followed by several hours of writing, preparing for my English subject-matter test, a break for some play time and a walk with Dingo Girl, working on my thesis, and then studies before running off to teach and returning home to a warm, hot, nutritious meal and glass of wine on the beach, the sunset glittering off my diamonds and too-white teeth. But it was not to be. There are not enough hours in the day when my days are filled with things like dingleberry distractions and extractions that prevent me from sitting at my desk and working. I need to come up with a system that makes me just as efficient and as organized at home as I was at work. Any suggestions that do not involve violence?