Why Don’t You Cook Dinner?

But first:  Acknowledgement of my very first paid vacation dayEVER in my entire employed

This is never me.

life!!!!!  That’s 12 going on 13 years, for the record.  I have had time off for mandatory school activities/studying/tests/surgery–which isn’t really time off at all, is it?  And I’ve traded days with co-workers to procure time off for very brief vacations (usually to visit parents or do some other obligatory activity), but of course there is the working for the co-worker part of the equation.  But never have I just had a vacation day off free and clear to do whatever I want–and had the bonus of getting paid as if I was working.  I could get used to this.  And sure I would only be working from 8 AM to maybe 1 PM on a day without surgeries if it was a usual Saturday, but let me tell you how freeing it is NOT to.  Right now, I would normally be assessing how many hospitalized patients/early appointments/drop offs there are compared to how much cleaning there is to be done.  And worrying about what time I should shower in order to get that cleaning and pre-appointment stuff finished people having to cater to doctors and clients.

Friday was so much less stressful when I wasn’t worrying about getting screwed over on Saturday.  Two-three abscesses getting squeezed in?  No problem.  The owner wants to pick up at 8 AM Saturday?  Awesome.  There is a simultaneous appointment and drop off first thing Saturday morning?  Of a person notorious for showing up later then closing time to pick up the cat?  Not my problem.  The vacuuming in the lobby hasn’t been done?  Cool.  I was cool as a cucumber, actually.  Working with Dr. Makes Me Effing Crazy doesn’t make me crazy at all when it’s JUST the one day.

But enough about work already–I’m on vacation and from this point on, refuse to think about it.  And my impending schedule of DOOM.  I will try my very hardest NOT to think/worry/obsess about that this weekend. . .  Instead a cute story about our “baby.”  The youngest of our cats is four–but she’s always a baby.  She’s a funny little thing and bonded with Cool while she was home all day due to unemployment.  Could that last sentence be more convoluted and awkward?  Deal–I’m on vacation 😉 The two of them do “ups,” sauna, nap together–complete with drooling and jerking, moral support “peels” (out of 4 alarms that go off during the day, the kitty actually knows this is the treat one), high fives, “fajitas” at the end of the day . . .  A bunch of cute/sickeningly saccharine routines that make them (us?) real crazy cat ladies.

About the other day.  Well, first some background:  My little kitty always runs in if you open a can. I’m not certain why as I’ve never fed her scraps–or canned food. And when she stayed with my parents for a year or two, well they did. But they don’t really cook from cans. If anything, my dad would drop a scrap of meat to the kitchen floor.  But Choco-Luv (that’s her real name) runs in.

Cool and I were teasing her that she should cook dinner if she was going to be in the kitchen meow, meow, meowing. We continued:  She was welcome to cook dinner, and to have it ready by the time we got home from work.  And just as if she understood exactly what we were saying, Choco-Luv jumped up on the counter. Ready to cook I suppose.

I guess cats don’t understand joking. . .  So remember WHY we get it, and have a good three day weekend everyone–I will!