I found a line jotted down here in my little book of notes that reads “1st Tuesday 3 p.m.”
When I wrote that note, I must have known that obviously more information was needed so I scribbled “of month” on the next line.
Unfortunately I probably should have jotted down something more useful such as exactly what it is that happens on the 1st Tuesday of every month – maybe it would have been helpful had I simply penciled in where I was supposed to be at 3 p.m. on the first Tuesday.
But no – instead I write down “of month”. As if I needed to make clear I meant the first Tuesday as opposed to the second Tuesday of the week, eh?
So anyway I have absolutely no idea where I was supposed to have been last Tuesday at 3 p.m.
If it was with you specifically - please accept my apologies and phone me so I might gain some clarity about where I am supposed to be on the first Tuesday of next month.
It seems that every week I wind up with a little note either in my notebook or floating around from one pile of paper to being underneath another pile – and that blessed little note will mean absolutely nothing to me when I try to read it. All too often it is a phone number; and that’s good, it simplifies things. Because if I really, really need to know what the note is about all I have to do is dial the number and try bluffing my way through the first minute or two of the call by starting off with something like, “Hi – this is Pat Kelly and I have a note here that says I should phone you.”
If I’m lucky the person on the other end of the line will start talking and I’ll be able to catch up with the topic pdq. If I am really lucky, I’ll be able to even guess who it is I am talking to by the sound of their voice.
***
I haven’t had neither the time nor the inclination to install the new pet door. Another reason is I haven’t bought it yet.
I am wanting to buy a high-tech unit that only opens for an animal to come in if they are wearing a special radio ID tag on their collar.
This is all necessary because a neighborhood stray has found out it’s easy to couch-surf and mooch off the Kelly cat bowls – all he has to do is walk through the hole in the kitchen door.
So in the meantime I have kept the lid on the low-tech pet door and, as added security, I keep the screen door closed too.
But the warmer weather and the blocked off pet door means that I am now the designated doorman in the house.
One of the cats was given the name Galaxy because he’d hitched a ride home with us one cold day in January and Special K and I were reading Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy at the time – we used to read aloud to each other when TV got too slow for us.
If I am the doorman then Galaxy is the door cat – it doesn’t matter what side of it he is on, he’ll be standing there waiting for me to open it. Always!