I suck as a caretaker

8 05 2010

C finally went to the doctor today and came home with a diagnosis of outer ear infection.  I’m at the computer, working on a particularly annoying training video . . .

C: Can you put my ear drops in for me?
Me: What? No. It’s not hard. Lie down there (pointing to guest bed) and go bloop bloop in your ear 3 times.
C: I want you to do it!
Me: Why on earth do you want me to do it?
C: Because you do it better.
Me: How would you know? I’ve never done it!
C: Just put the ear drops in!
Me: Fine. GOD. Lie down.  (I grab the drops and start shaking them)
Me: (almost dropping the . . . drops)  Jesus Christ don’t yell like that! What is it?
C: You have to warm them up in your hand first.
Me: Now you’re just lying. I’ve never heard such a crazy thing.
C: No it says right here on the directions — warm bottle in hands so that the temperature difference doesn’t cause dizziness.
Me: Those must be the wussy baby directions.
C: Well, they didn’t say anything about special directions, it just says it on the label.
Me: They took one look at you and said, “Give her the wussy baby directions.”
C: Do it anyway. It says so on the label. If you don’t follow the directions you’ll go to jail.
Me: Right.  (I proceed to put 3 drops in her ear)
C: It’s cold!! You dripped on my head!
Me: Stop fidgeting then!
C: You didn’t warm them up!
Me: You sat here and watched me snuggle this damn bottle in my palms. Not my fault you have weird ears.
C: You’re no good at this. (pouty lip starts happening)
Me: I was trying to tell you that and now it’s too late. Should have listened to me.

I do feel bad for her, I’ve had TONS of ear infections. A couple years ago I had a middle ear infection so bad I was just sobbing and it was too swollen for the medicine to get in.  So you might think I would be a little more sympathetic, right?  But I’m not.  I’m just all, “suck it up, sicky!”

Oh well.


A decade in review

1 09 2009

Today (yes! today!) is my 10 year anniversary with C.  I’ve said it before, but it really is mind boggling sometimes.  Going along, day to day, it never seems like that long.  But every once in a while I sit back and marvel at it.  And that’s when a decade with a person has heft, has some weight behind it.

We’re not doing anything special, which is fine.  I’ll be cooking one hell of a dinner on Friday (she’s taking 2 days off work so we can relax and celebrate).  But I’m so damn giddy, I keep expecting to walk outside and see fireworks in the sky.  Everyone should take an hour off of work and go drinking because OH MY GOD WE MADE IT THIS FAR.

If you know us, hell, you might be one of the few who knew us before we started dating, you might be just as amazed as we are.  It has not been easy, and we’re the first ones to admit that.  We have no earthly clue how we’ve pulled it off and managed to stay together.  For those not in the know, and for my own self-indulgent, self-congratulatory purposes, I’m providing a timeline. Read the rest of this entry »

The case of the missing pajamas

13 06 2009

Last night as C and I were headed to bed, she suddenly asks “Have you seen my pajamas?”  I reply that I have not.  Minutes go by and then, “Seriously, where are they?”

We look everywhere: on the bed, in the bed, under the bed, in the closet, in the bathroom, in my hamper, in the washing machine and dryer, downstairs, in the freezer (hey, why not?), under the couch, EVERYWHERE.

We just can’t find them.  It’s the strangest thing. Now, the sheet from the bed was on the floor and she accused me of that. Which is a fair accusation because I hate blankets and I frequently kick them as far away from me as possible, but this time I didn’t do it!! The last time I was upstairs before we headed to bed, that sheet was on the bed and the cat was on the sheet. I think the cat dragged the sheet to the floor and I have a suspicion that the cat also made off with the pajamas. But where?  It’s a complete mystery.

What we do

11 04 2009

Some of our best conversations have taken place in the front seat of a car while we wind through back roads after midnight.  Too bored to stay home and too poor to go out, we just drive.  Taking curves at top speed, racketing through the dark with the music up and wind buffeting our hair until we need help later to fix the knots . . . I am happiest here.

Intentionally getting lost with her has become a favorite pastime for years.  If we have even a glancing knowledge of the area, we can always find our way back without fail.  No maps, no GPS—we rely on intuition and dumb luck.  And if we fuck it up, we turn around and find what looks familiar.

I play with her hair as she keeps one hand on my leg.  I tickle her at stop lights and we sing songs that make us gasp from giggling.

So we drive on and on, and once the singing has petered out (me with my constant harmonizing, her with her B-52s and Muppet-inspired shrieks) the talking starts.  Everything is covered eventually.  We have pored over our pasts, our families, our greatest fears, our triumphs.  Here is where we talk about our future and what we want.  An easy thing to do with infinite miles stretching out before us.  We spent our sixth anniversary in the front seat of a car, trying once more to land somewhere after fleeing a storm.  We have laughed and wept here, fought and loved.   We have warred and reconciled;  confessed and made grand declarations.

And every time I look over, catching her face in the brief gleam of someone else’s headlights, I realize just how great it really is.  Because there are few things better than tearing through the black skies and whispering back and forth, “just a little further.”

Good news!

23 02 2009

Not sure if I went into this in a previous post, but C’s financial aid for this semester didn’t come through due to a bullshit reason involving academic bureaucracy.  Money has been super tight around here for the last month.  She paid tuition and books out of pocket and picked up an extra shift at work.  That put her working 40 hours a week (4 days) and in class the other three days (11 hours).  Suffice to say, we don’t see each other except for maybe 3 solid hours per week (not including when she sleeps next to me and snores).

But oh frabjous day!  She found out tonight that her financial aid has come through!  For now, she’s keeping the extra shift at work just to build a cushion.  But if she has to schedule herself for one shift less around tests or whatever, she won’t have to take a vacation day and the drop in money won’t kill her.  And this means there shouldn’t be any problems with financial aid over the summer, so she’ll be staying in school straight through.

This is all great because now she can get her prerequisites out of the way sooner and get into a PharmD program.  Which, in itself, is a 4-year commitment.  But the payoff will be great.

Speaking of the PharmD, who knows where we’ll end up for that?  If she wants to do it at UT, that’s fine with me.  But I’m still open to her going to Xavier and moving us back to New Orleans for a while.  After that, who knows where we might land?  I vote Oregon.  Not that I’ve even visited, but it sounds nice.

Now if we can just find me a job come June, life will be going really well.  I don’t care if it’s going back to clerical, I’m just gonna need a paycheck.

Easily frustrated

2 12 2008

A couple weeks ago, I was getting ready to leave for class.  This involved a mad scramble for anything and everything I would need.  I was talking to C on the phone and suddenly . . .

Me: Dammit! I can’t find my phone!  Have you seen it?
C: Yeah, it’s on your head.
Me: Oh, real helpful smartass.  Seriously, have you seen it?
C: . . .
Me: Oh! I’m talking on it, aren’t I?  Sorry I called you a smartass, then.  Gotta go, love you!!
C: Weirdo.

A sad day

23 11 2008

C and I are taking her cat, Tiger, to the vet tomorrow to be put to sleep.  This is a hard thing to do.

When C was 10 years old, she found a kitten.  She kept it in her room until it was willing to come out from under the bed.  She named her Tiger for her stripes and fearsome manner.  Tiger has been fiercely devoted to C for 19 years, and vice versa.

Tiger doesn’t like many people and I still maintain that C decided I was worth dating because Tiger allowed me to pet her and even snuggled up with me in C’s room at one point all those years ago.

For the last 9 years, Tiger has been my cat as well.  She is sweet and kind and loves me, though she makes it abundantly clear that C comes first.

We had Tiger in our first house together, in all houses and apartments since then, and we evacuated her with us for Katrina.  As long as I have known C, Tiger has been present.  And tomorrow we are putting that to an end.

She has had a good, long life and that is a great thing.  But that doesn’t make this hurt any less.  Most of all, I wish there was anything I could do for C.  This hurts her, and it’s hard for me to see her heart breaking like this without being able to help.

So, I love you, Tiger.  You were a good cat.  And thank you for giving C something to love though those bad years when it all seemed so desolate.

My friend, A, asked if Tiger was a symbol of C and me, the girls who met, and if this felt like some final thrust into adulthood.  Perhaps.  Although to be “thrust” into adulthood at 29 is pretty sad, shouldn’t we be adults already?

Regardless of what she may or may not symbolize, Tiger has had a place in our cobbled-together family.  And she will be sorely missed.