Monday I took Toby to the vet for booster shots to allow him a week at camp while Laura and I fly to Wisconsin. On tip toe I nudged the carrier down from the top shelf, and landed it on the washer. I found the cat, stashed him, and left the laundry room, to his howls, to finish up to leave. Went back to retrieve the cat, and found him glaring at me from the kitchen floor.
I told him what will happen to his special, and expensive cat carrier. He walked away. Getting him to the vet in half a carrier was no picnic.
Tuesday Laura’s psychologist asked me into the session at the outset, intending to schedule out a dismissal program for Laura. But, we told her about spending a year abroad, commencing in six or seven months, and Mrs. A was as pleased as I am. We worked out everything I should know about a support system wherever she may be. We’ll see Mrs. A monthly, until Laura goes, and all will be well.
Yesterday I saw my lovely rheumatologist, who now has an x-ray of my decrepit shoulder, so she “would know what to do.” After discussion of all the failed options to date, I now have an appointment with a shoulder orthopedic surgeon to discuss his take on arthroscopic removal of one large and many small bone spurs in residence in my shoulder socket.
Today I had lunch with Ruth. Ruth would make a bad week good and a good week over the moon. We had so much catching up, we were in the restaurant almost two hours. It’s a new one for both of us, Lager & Vine. How about that for two old ladies, though I know Ruth will have her martini at four. I miss lager, but that’s the price of decent drugs. Al Franken is on the television, resigning. My clay footed god.
I took my first selfie with the new camera. Far easier than the last phone, after I found where not to put my fingers. Next time I’ll work out the glamour part.
On the way home I stopped at Ace, the Place with the Friendly Hardware Man, and bought a bottle of gorilla glue with an applicator brush. Tonight Laura and I will modify Mr. Razor Toes’ travel abode. I’m thinking a strip of gorilla glued fabric, inside and out, and you know who will not get through the old slit. If he keeps slitting the screen, I have lots of fabric and know where to buy glue. He’ll wish he never planned an escape from Alcatraz.
Speaking of Laura, tomorrow is her sixteenth birthday. What a difference a year makes! All the egg shells I walked on last year are gone; a whole new person lives here, now. I spent the rest of the afternoon at Cathy’s, planning pizza and a movie for six. The six will see Coco; Cathy and I will be next door, watching Murder on the Orient Express. Cathy gave me three napkin choices; I picked the one on top. It seems so right.