Caterwauling

Neptune moves into conjunction with Venus today. Good time for a love spell.

I’ve loved a lot in my life. Mostly meals and cats. Definitely my immediate family. Possibly a few others. Money is unquestionably my first love. Good health is higher on that list than ever now.

As for romantic love? Enh.

At least, it was a no till I read something this morning that made me stop and wonder if/wish I wrote it.

I have always loved me. So much so that I quit wanting others to do it since none of them could do it as well as I could.

But if I loved myself fully, would I reject more than just adequate suitors? Like would I also repel the shitty friends, colleagues (I mean, more than I do) and other treatment by clearly lesser beings?

Anyway a good spell to do right now is to send your spirit to your future partner and tell them you are ready for them.

And no, you don’t know who it is. Even if you think you do.

Trust me, the universe has never picked who I thought it would.

And isn’t that beautiful, really.

I see now that all the duds were really the ones who sent for me, and not me for them.

Kind of a relief that nobody’s picker is broken. They aimed for a goddess. I just need to focus my efforts to aim for a god.

I’d say I couldn’t remember the last time I had a man wish me a Happy Valentine’s Day who didn’t report to me (or “just” report to me, ahem), but imma need to hold that thought.

All right, take two.

I’ve been talking to a couple dudes. My expectations for Valentine’s Day were nil because, just talking.

Anyway imagine my surprise when the one who’s out of the country was the one to wish me a happy Valentine’s Day.

I never want to write about these sorts of things. Because it’s like the universe says oh, you have hope? Is that what you’re telling me? NO SOUP FOR YOU.

Then I think, I’ve literally never worked harder at anything in my life than trying to stay single. Isn’t this, then, the ultimate assurance that I will stay that way?

So I met this guy a long time ago. At work. *hides*

Aside, “We Found Love in a Hopeless Place” is the ultimate interoffice romance anthem.

He doesn’t work there anymore. But he’s always kept in touch.

He gave me his number a long time ago but I lost it. And talking over fuckin LinkedIn, of all things, was getting old.

So I wished him a safe trip overseas and said text me some photos.

He doesn’t miss an opportunity to tell me he thinks I’m beautiful. That he wants to see my smile. That it’s been too long since we video chatted. That when he gets back, he’s bringing me coffee from the region he’s in and that he’s taking me for wine.

He doesn’t live in my county. But he’s definitely in one that intrigues me.

He’s also a ghost online. I’ve Googled the ever-loving fuck out of this fella. Best I can gather is that he’s maybe 41.

Which, being 30ish myself, that works well. Although if anyone’s nose is still hooked in mah bidness, they would point out that he’s a young’n.

He also seems so free. Always hopping on flights out of the U.S. Planning to summer at a place I want to see. Offering to accompany me to two (much nearer) places I am hoping to see this year.

A part of me thinks of how many pandemic pounds I’ve made peace with. How much else has changed in me, physically and mentally. Heck, I was reading an hour ago that people (insert the thing) have a higher incidence of anxiety/depression than those (who don’t).

Just as I was thinking that my anxiety is the same as it ever was, I developed a high fever.

And I thought, JFC, things are going right or, at least, NOT ENTIRELY WRONG. Of course I’ll die before I get to experience it. Of course.

Can you imagine, really? Just as things are starting to get kinda good again, you either drop dead or have to tell someone hey, I’m bout ta explode into a thousand bats. You may wish to exit now, yes?

Then a half hour ago, I saw this …

Anyway, it’s so interesting how many online “ghosts” I meet. When I’ve been living my life out loud since Al Gore invented the internet.

Clearly this one is living his life out loud in a very real way. And he adorably thinks I can become part of all that.

I have another one I talk to. Much closer. Like, I see him all the time closer.

He clearly has a crush on me and is awkward as hell and it’s so freaking cute.

But one thing that is true with both these guys is I show nothing. It challenges the first one and it seems to attract but scare the other.

Of course, I just found out the other is a cop and I HATE cops. I can abuse and murder my own damn self, thanks. At least, I can certainly defund myself. Especially when the crystal shop has a sale.

Anyway, I know I didn’t react quite right when I discovered who his employer is. I tried. Kinda.

The beauty of this all is that I’ve been fine for 30ish years and I already did the whole “maybe THIS is the one I’ve waited all this time for” thing.

But I gotta say. Someone who’s hanging out near the Tropic of Capricorn and still texts me good morning, good night and happy Valentine’s Day? Damn.

Maybe I need to quit worrying whether I’m the crazy one and whether HE is!

Literally everyone I like has complained to me about the same three people who drive me bugshit nuts.

I am gracious when it happens. I assure them they’re not paranoid. That it’s not just them. That it’s the world’s worst-kept secret, but it’s not a problem till it’s a problem for people at a higher pay grade.

I don’t really wish ill for the antagonists. My prayer, at least as far as I pray on Faceypages, is that they will find their dream job at a company I don’t work for.

I mean, that allows for the possibility that they might hang out and I’ll get kicked out.

But still. I’ve decided to hold space for the possibility that I am more valuable than the goobers will ever be, even combined.

That’s such a freeing thought.

That, yeah of course the worst always seems to happen. Or at least the hardest or stupidest thing.

In stocks and politics, I always say the thing that hurts the biggest number of people in the biggest way is what will happen.

I have yet to be wrong on those fronts. (e.g., just when it’s time to buy, the market shits the bed because JPOW might breathe incorrectly tomorrow … Roe overturned … neo-Nazi MTG as fucking speaker pro temp WHAT THE FUCK.)

In any event, what if … I am beloved (if not undervalued) and everyone has THEIR number and it’s a WRONG number and they don’t realize how HAPPY we would be if things went back to the way they were before (e.g., without them)?

Now that’s a relief.

Also, I decided I don’t believe in breathing in the good and out the bad.

I’m not breathing toxic fire on that which sustains me.

Instead, I exhale joy and hope and love to the trees, the ducks, the grass, the butterflies and the white caps of the ocean waves.

Lord knows they have enough people fertilizing them with their bullshit. It’s up to me to sustain them. As I try to do with the people who have less of a voice than I.

I ran into a pair of kiddos at Pet Supermarket yesterday. As I do.

One reminded me of Cocoa. Bright eyes, playful. Gray and brown striped tabby. Danced the way Cocoa does when she wants me to wake up.

The other had the same coloring. But its eyes were crossed. One eye was a little swollen.

When I looked in the cage by the register, the first one bounded into the action. Look at us! Look how cute we are! Take us home please! Me and my twin here, c’mon you know you wanna!

The second looked sad. Like, hi, I’m here too. Hope you could love me but I’d understand if you can’t.

I did what I always do. I told them I loved them. I hoped they’d get a nice house and a good family. And that they’d get to go together.

This particular store always seems to sell one and not the other. But I’m holding onto hope.

I told mom about this pair, how I wish I could have taken them.

She had eye surgeries as a kid. I bet she would have fallen in love with the calmer kitty. How that calm kitty would love Cocoa and Bella. How Magic needs another kitten to be crazy with.

I look at my 3 bebes, who spent all afternoon with me as I caught up on work. I always think of how I want them with me forever.

Cocoa’s little legs, man.

But every time I tell myself my heart will shatter without my babies, I meet another baby who needs a momma.

Speaking of, I need to go see my downstairs babies. I call them Kadie Jr., Cocoa Jr. and Nutmeg Jr. After babies I’ve loved (Kates and Nut) and still do (Cokie).

Who knew my greatest loves would all have tails?

I accepted a job offer at the end of 2019 under duress.

The what and the who of it all that made me say yes to that mess was inconsequential. (God I love that word.)

The important thing was, I was leaving an annoying person …

But all I really did was exchange them for another crackpot.

Who just showed up in my damn inbox again.

Yesterday, I got this weird email about reiki. Whoever wrote it included some OAN-type of clip about how it rouses the demons out of your body to unleash hell on the world.

Now, I get opted into all kinds of crazy Christian wingnut financial pubs all the time. As ever, I scrolled to the bottom to see who the lucky “unsubscribe” recipient would be today.

UGH, SJ.

OK, so when I joined the new entity, I was introduced to this cool lady who read tarot cards and published guides on manifesting your wildest dreams. Like, she even used tarot and intuition to help her trade stocks!

I thought it was going to be a friendship made in heaven.

Well … she would soon undergo some sort of wacko religious experience.

At first, it was that she embraced tRumpism full stop. She ran for office in her (luckily faraway) state and lost bigly.

Then, George Floyd got murdered on my birthday. And she couldn’t stop bringing it up in meetings. Which, as her superior, I deflected until I’d had enough of her.

She kept talking about the “riots” and I said they are peaceful protests till some brat with a big gun crosses state lines to kill protestors.

She said, well Dawn, you can go riot all you want. But if you go to D.C. and deface the Thomas Jefferson statue, I will drive down there and shoot you myself.

THIS WAS ON A CALL THAT HALF THE COMPANY HEARD.

She later Skyped me to apologize for threatening to kill me.

When I returned my laptop post-shitcanning, I made that screenshot the desktop image.

Anyway, her little tarot/manifestation newsletter started to document this religious awakening she was having.

I stayed on the mailing list, as I got no problem with God. (His followers, OTOH …)

Increasingly, she started repenting about getting mixed up in the “dark arts” and believing in gods and goddesses when there was Only One.

Then she went silent. And honestly I forgot about her.

Then the email filled with “proof” of reiki rousing sleeping demons did me in.

I simply unsubscribed. After all, I can’t imagine she has amassed any traction on the internet. What, one spam complaint is gonna set her straight? Please.

I type all of this to reiterate something I’ve typed about in this space a thousand times before. Trading bad for bad.

Like, you want to escape something at one place … well guess what, you get something equally annoying at the next.

So when I sit here today and dent my forehead after hanging up from (now three) annoying people, I think, hey! None of them THREATENED MY LIFE today.

I mean, they might have made me want to end it all at some point. But every meeting and project eventually concludes. And I get to go back to my cool, awesome team after each one.

And the inconsuhkwential ones never stop being just that.

I got a call from someone you never want to get a call from at 5 p.m. on a Friday: Human Resources.

Getting a call at that hour on that day sends up alarm bells that it’s “firing time.”

But yesterday I swallowed the trauma response. As someone who’s had to DO the firings, I know that you don’t need to panic unless they bring a witness.

I earned a little talking-to because one of my people is taking off four days and wanted to change one of those days. I’d told her I hire adults and I don’t care if you update our system. Enjoy your trip and thanks for ensuring your absence is covered.

WELL. Someone cares.

Anyway since they already had me on the line, they wanted to ask about a conflict I was having with someone.

I said oh? I assumed it was with LVP2 since HR had called one day right after LVP2 screamed at me and I was in tears.

Nope, someone else.

I said we have different communication styles, and we will never have an easy time working together. But I don’t even think about them most days.

I waited for a follow-up question about LVP2, but that was it, Fort Pitt.

A guy I used to work for (not a fond memory) was on one of his coke binges and referred to someone as “inconsequential.”

I’m going to keep that word handy for the next time I get a call.

It’s so weird. I have fans on my staff and all around the company. People WANT to come to my team because it’s so functional.

So for me to have cultivated a reputation for not getting along with people — Breaking Brad, Moldilocks, Covid Boy, LVP1 and 2 (thanks to 1 for calling HR on me because I blocked you on Twitter! Your petty bullshit still hangs over us, but you proved my claim that you’re crazy) — I prefer to think that I’m just clear about not suffering fools anymore.

Like all those times I was forced to listen to those Don Jr.-esque ramblings. It was always so painful. But I remember marveling at how he savored that word.

I like it too. Now I invest my time in those who are consequential to my day, my life, my joy and my survival.

The rest … as I initially replied … “Who?”

One of Taylor Swift’s best songs is about a little boy named Ronan.

I can’t listen to it too often. I mean, I don’t get enough music in my life, and it can’t make me sad when it does. But every now and again, shuffle serves it up. And today, four years to the day that I moved into this condo, I listened to it.

It really makes me think of Cocoa, who I met three years ago around this time. I don’t know how old she is (vets have offered anywhere from 4 to 14 — my new vet thinks she’s closer to 7) or how much time we’ll get together. So I just love on her and tell her that our story has many chapters ahead.

Anyway I’m sure there’s something else I’m supposed to remember about this time.

And I imagine I’ll get reminded about it because someone’s addicted AF to me.

Dress for the meeting you have, not the one you want.

I’d like to say I had a feeling someone would annoy me. But that isn’t being psychic. It’s called experience.

Talk turned to today’s employment news. Which is of course bullshit because it doesn’t include disaffected workers.

Someone asked what that meant. My favorite person (not) said that’s all the lazy assholes who sit around with their hands out, waiting for the government to subsidize their lifestyles.

I said it’s people who are disabled or discriminated against and who get tired of being treated like they are nothing by people who don’t deserve the jobs they have.

Boy was that a fun meeting.

This same person referred to someone I adore as having a “hard RBF.”

I didn’t say, “Says someone with ACTIVE BF, but OK then.”

Meanwhile the second-biggest bitch I know is once again bragging about her screenshot collection.

Enjoy your masturbatory materials, whore. I’m sick of your shit too. You can ALLLLLLL fuck off together.

Took my baby to a vet, finally.

I’ve been researching them forever. Called all my neighbors that I like. (Meaning, not in this compound.)

Literally everyone said their vets sucked.

One is a snowbird and he said he took his baby back to PA for care and, eventually, for her last voyage.

Well. Not going to PA anytime soon, so I needed an alternative.

Finally I found one I had a good feeling about.

Oh my GOD where has this vet been all my life.

Cocoa has been to the Keys multiple times. Miami. Orlando. This child used to live under a Target truck and sleep on a manhole cover and push other kitties out of their food because she wanted it.

Always cool. Always in charge. Always my little backseat boss while Belly enjoys the ride.

Not today. My little toughie freaked the fuck out.

I parked about an eighth of a mile from the place. The traffic made her absolutely insane. By the time I went into the office, she was panting and climbing the walls.

The vet was the nicest I’d ever met. So it wasn’t him.

I said she was in need of meds that she hadn’t been on in a few months. He asked why not, very non-judgmentally.

I said the last vet demanded I make an appearance before being given a refill. And time went by and here we are.

He said that’s ridiculous. You don’t deny a baby her meds. And why they heck aren’t they sent to your house?

He was also horrified at the vet records they sent. There was ONE LINE. The name of the drug, no dosage. No list of surgeries performed, no vitals, no blood test results.

He said I might have an inkling why you didn’t go back.

With Cocoa freaking out, he wouldn’t do blood tests. Refused. Said we could do that another day.

I about passed out. I said everywhere I go, they force vaccinations and other stuff on me. He said I will not give this little lady a heart attack on top of what she’s going through. If you want to do that another day, call me.

Not only that, he called a pharmacy and arranged for my meds to show up on my doorstep. With four refills.

Before we called the pharmacy, he coached me on how I might want to answer their questions. How many vials to order. Why I might not want to opt for auto-refills. Oh and he stepped out of the room when they asked for my credit card.

Meanwhile, I asked the vet tech for some water for Cocoa. She brought that and an ice pack. And Cocoa cozied up to both on the floor and calmed herself down.

They also said hey we have a secret little parking lot behind us. I’m like WHAT I didn’t have to walk on the highway?!

So I ran and got my car, and we settled up and I got to load her with no problems.

They said come back next week and we’ll waive the visit fee.

I think I’m in love.

I pulled the Ace of Cups this morning, when I asked how this visit would go.

Traditionalists see the card as that agape kind of love, which I sure have for Cocoa.

To me, too, the card is a symbol of happy beginnings, positive change and new possibilities. In the health sense,

I see it as telling me there is potential for recovery.

I sure hope that my baby will get her meds, get her tests and be able to have a much better quality of life than she’s had lately.

Not gonna lie, I’m worried about her kidneys. But there’s nothing much I can do now.

So I’ll keep loving her and feeding her and thanking the heavens and All That Is for me finally, finally finding the care all my babies (would have) deserved.

I am the past life of the next me.

I make peace with my past self, and friends with my future self.

We can’t possibly achieve all we are capable of in one lifetime.

You are your path. You are never off-path.

Broken people follow me because misery needs friends, too.

Burn a candle (black/silver) for what returned to the dark and ring a bell for what was birthed.

Rosemary is for remembrance.

Linden blossom keeps the door open between the realms.

They pay me to afford this life, not to enjoy it.

It’s not supposed to be work-life balance. It should be LIFE-WORK.

Pay yourself first doesn’t just apply to money. You must also pay yourself in TIME.

BONUS: Things mom texts me in traffic

Pat that bitch on the back bc I ran out of foiled stars.