Retrospect for September

Retrospect

The last four weeks of my life are full of retrospect

I thought to myself on early Wednesday morning a few weeks back..
As I stood in two inches of water in my basement. Fuzzy had tried to warn me Tuesday night as I readied myself for bed. She led me to the basement door and mewed. I thought that she wanted more food. I looked at her body and decided that she has become posterkitty for the fat house cat and said, "I will check your dish in the morning."
I had forgotten to turn off the hose when I answered the door to welcome my guests. I had a business meeting lasting well past midnight with awful pizza and I wanted to sleep. I missed a half day of work buying a wet/dry vac and mopping the floor.

Not long after the hose incident, I stood in my kitchen around the stroke of Midnight and thought

After $300, 4 weeks and two paint splattered outfits, I realized that I was in over my head. The plaster guy gave me bad information on just how long it would take the plaster to dry. As I painted my smooth walls with primer, I left pockmarks with every stroke. I almost cried. I still have to do the touch-up, paint the kitchen door and (heaven help me) paint behind the fridge. I declined 3 THREE Labor Day pool parties and a family picnic in order to finish painting my kitchen. IT IS STILL NOT DONE. I should have purchased a swim suit and jumped into the pool despite the rain. The meetings still convened at my house while I painted painstakingly slow.

I will never do this again. The kitchen used to be a blush color that I hated. Also, the plaster walls were in need of repair. It is now my blue rooster kitchen.

Last week, I considered to myself after viewing a program on my DVR..
Around the proverbial water cooler the topic a few weeks ago was "Here Comes Honey Boo Boo Child." I had to know what was the joke. I recorded the show and watched it the next morning as I readied for work. That is what I told my co-worker when I arrived late that morning. I should admit that I tried to talk all my business partners into watching the show in order to share the experience during the meeting in my home a day later. I even queued up the DVR for my guests.

And just today, I banged my head against my desk as I considered...
I am, of course, not referring to the effort it takes to acclimate a kitten into a home with a middle aged house cat. I am referring to the kitten-wreck. Kitten wreck refers to those things that, well, have been destroyed by the kitten in a home with a well trained house cat. Like shoe strings, walls, my clothing, my skin, my sleep, my quiet, my sense of safety, and finally my nerves.
I decided to foster the kitten Lydia and I found hiding in her garage last month until I could find him a home.The kitten has been literally underfoot ever since. I can never be assured that I am stepping on hard surfaces anymore.

I spent two weeks hiding the kitten from the cat to socialize him. In addition to keeping the kitten hidden from the cat, I had to spread their scents around each other. Google instructed me to rub the kitten's scent on Fuzzy's bedding.

That is me rubbing the kitten on Fuzzy's bed, which consists of a towel and an old pillow.
It made perfect sense at the time at the time.

This is Fuzzy approaching her bed. She sleeps on it every night at the foot of my bed. She still hadn't seen the kitten but she had heard the kitten through a bedroom door. I spent days hiding them from each other. All that ended when Roger figure out how to jump over the barrier that I had erected to keep them separated. Fuzzy knows something is wrong in this picture. She smells something foul.
	Here she is wondering, "What is that smell?" This was actually quite funny. But I did fear that she would retaliate by marking my sofa.
	Here she has made her assessment of the situation. And rendered her final decision.

I named the kitten Roger because he was found in a garage. I had meetings at my house every other day for two weeks and my friends began to like him. They called him Roger the Beast of a Kitten. Roger likes to attack Fuzzy. I have actually seen Roger leap into the air as if to pounce on the older cat. Roger does not have the sense to fear a ten pound cat.
A week ago, I learned that my first guess was correct and Roger is actually Raja. Yep, he is a she. I still call her Roger - every day. In retrospect, I should have given her a more cat-like name and not the pink skull and crossbones collar with that blasted bell.

So, in retrospect before I host a month-long series of business meetings in my house, I will not attempt to drown garden pests, adopt a new pet, take on a DIY project or watch inane reality shows.