This Cat's an Asshole

Ahh unemployment. Home each day. Much needed beauty rest. Taking a little time to "enjoy The View" at 11am. Going to the gym -my new running mantra being, "you can't be FAT and marry the Track Coach"- they LOVE to hear me chant that one. Learning the joys of crock potting. Contimplating 50 easy ways to cook chicken. Learning lessons the hard way like- leaving defrosted chicken in the microwave (we put it in there so the cat can't get to it) for over 48 hours can lead to one awful smell. Organizing. Masturbating. Food Shopping. Not always in that order but you get the idea. I guess I'd become so focused on being A REAl Housegirlfriend of South Jersey, I had neglected Franki, my cat-my son. The former "man in my life". That was until Wednesday when I saw a black hole. His asshole.

My cats asshole was black as night. And I was beyond perplexed. Now picture it: my kitchen, in, "The Woo" as Mike Angelini calls our town. I am unpacking groceries -trying to throw all my stew ingredients in the crock- and my cat lays down to basque in the sunlight and THE BLACK ASSHOLE is out for all the world to see. "what the hell..." I said....I couldn't figure it out. Did he manage to break into the fireplace and only dip his asshole in the soot? I looked downstairs and our fireplace was still closed. Did he eat some petrfied wood which had escaped from the cinders and now passed the soot through his asshole? The Litter was clear, so no. Did he merely have a soot/asshole fetish? I STILL don't know. I only now his assholes white and fluffy again and I would just prefer it stay that way. Coaxing a cat so it will let you study it's asshole is no simple task and I'm fine with it if it's one I never have to complete again. This isn't one of those things your Mother prepares you for when she's telling you how to keep a house.

Back to this Housegirlfriend business. While I am pleased as punch to announce I was offered a job yesterday which I will begin this Summer- I am really enjoying keeping house. I'm not that great at it but I like it. I just f'ing hate vaccuming. Ugh. And the fact that it doesn't matter how many times I windex my stovetop (the actual oven- not the stuffing)it will inevitably have paw prints on it within 5 minutes. And now maybe even cat's black asshole prints. I'm in the midst of organizing our office. Which is , and well deservedly (is that even an f'ing word?) a shrine to Mark's many athletic undertakings and accomplishments. But I see now reason why "we" should limit a rooms potential and would like to cover any open nooks and panels with highlights from my theatrical career and the many headshots of Ann-Margret and George Michael. I also intend to spend a good portion of my future earnings at The Container Store and put those purchases to good use. But even just as it is- I LOVE our home. Mark's never made me feel like a guest. Or that I'm just passing through. Even our first "sleepover"- I had an overwhelming notion that this was where I belonged. I was thinking of this last night. Anytime I've thought of "going home" or "I want to be in my house" - I've in previous times thought only of my Mom's house. And while that will always be a home which is open to her children, this house- OUR house is my home. It's where my things are, where my heart is, where my love -THE love is. This life we've cultivated and continue to nurture is so lovely. And yes there are parts which are routine- around 11:13pm we take the big pillows out from the bottom of our pillow stacks and thrown them on our respective sides of the bed and flip the navy and white striped pillows to the top- I do this because that pillow is softer and the temperature is cooler/ I think Mark flips his because the gray and white checkered pillow he has is thicker and gives him more support- I play coy most times- I don't take ice and he knows this and I love that- he asks me almost everyday if I talked to my Mom. He will always make 3 parts to a dinner- So do I but at least one part is fucked up when I cook. These are things you can be sure of and I love that. Everything else is a big surprise and even the things at aren't ( I know he will be home by 2:45pm on a typical day and that time feels like Christmas morning everyday) are still wonderful everyday. When he plays guitar and sings it's the sweetest most romantic thing ever and I worship it. Yes folks , Heaven is right here in this house with a green roof. I never doubt that for a second.

~so listen~ I am gonna get going for now but it is my intention ( I know I say this a lot) to start updating at LEAST on a weekly basis. I swear it, on my Cat's asshole.
XOXO
JAC