kittens
Saved 5 kittens last night
I feel bad about that.
Had too much day yesterday, starting with a morning trip to Isobel in a new crisis. (I'm thinking, don't get old if you're poor, die "youngish" and call it good)) Transplanted antique roses in the rain while my body grieved lost loves - Gary, the prairie, the ranch, my siberian husky, chickens. All in all, a little too much day with a too limited "me."
Ross's in the evening is the "safe zone." Often I cook, because he's so much fun to feed, but if not, he'll handle it. We watch portions of movies because he has to much work to do and no time to sit through an entire movie anymore. When I slow down enough to watch a movie, I change perspectives and generally discover something I really want to do but was too distracted to notice. Sometimes it's sleep!
Yesterday the evening was fated to be weird. I was out of it. Ross went to clean the table and discovered a pool of water. Uh oh . . . his room is AGAIN leaking and this time through the ceiling light. Not good. When I arranged for him to have this house in the beginning, that room was leaking. The experienced architect in him, with no intention whatsoever in owning that house, said the problem was a fatal design that would always collect water and the only thing fix it would be either to tear it down and rebuild it or -- better in his book -- add second story construction and redirect from the top. Since he's lived there, he's always too busy to build that 2nd story.
I stepped out on the back porch to regroup and heard soft crying. Ross's cats could hear it too, so I knew whatever wasn't my imagination. On the other side of the fence I found a pile of very young kittens, drenched to the skin. Two were tangled in old fencing. I picked up the most pathetic one, and those that were mobile scattered. Over the next 15 minutes, I gathered 5 of the 6 but couldn't find the 6th. Ross insists there must have been only 5 since I don't do numbers well. Yeah . . .the numbers/counting portion of my brain is broken and malfunctions under the least stress, but something completely different does set theory effortlessly. I could never count to 140 when I had goats, but I knew at a glance if someone was missing and probably who it was that was gone and where to begin looking.
Here's the personality flaw I would like to grow in a healthier direction: Once I hear the crying, it never even entered my mind not to check. Once I saw the problem I did pause to reflect -- if the kittens had been dry or if it had been less than pouring rain, I would have left them where they were. Now we have 5 MORE kittens we never wanted, and I spent last night looking for the 6th.
My intellectual/tech self has no difficulty whatsoever identifying problem and solution. Over the the past 20 years, we've modified that chatter -- since it's clear that I am GOING to do certain things, however irrational, the intellect is no longer permitted to carry on endlessly about the essential bad judgement of Step One - follow the sound of crying. Clearly, I live out of a different part of my experience and the intellect needs to get on board and find a ways to be helpful and not just bitch about how stupid I am.
I feel bad about that.
Had too much day yesterday, starting with a morning trip to Isobel in a new crisis. (I'm thinking, don't get old if you're poor, die "youngish" and call it good)) Transplanted antique roses in the rain while my body grieved lost loves - Gary, the prairie, the ranch, my siberian husky, chickens. All in all, a little too much day with a too limited "me."
Ross's in the evening is the "safe zone." Often I cook, because he's so much fun to feed, but if not, he'll handle it. We watch portions of movies because he has to much work to do and no time to sit through an entire movie anymore. When I slow down enough to watch a movie, I change perspectives and generally discover something I really want to do but was too distracted to notice. Sometimes it's sleep!
Yesterday the evening was fated to be weird. I was out of it. Ross went to clean the table and discovered a pool of water. Uh oh . . . his room is AGAIN leaking and this time through the ceiling light. Not good. When I arranged for him to have this house in the beginning, that room was leaking. The experienced architect in him, with no intention whatsoever in owning that house, said the problem was a fatal design that would always collect water and the only thing fix it would be either to tear it down and rebuild it or -- better in his book -- add second story construction and redirect from the top. Since he's lived there, he's always too busy to build that 2nd story.
I stepped out on the back porch to regroup and heard soft crying. Ross's cats could hear it too, so I knew whatever wasn't my imagination. On the other side of the fence I found a pile of very young kittens, drenched to the skin. Two were tangled in old fencing. I picked up the most pathetic one, and those that were mobile scattered. Over the next 15 minutes, I gathered 5 of the 6 but couldn't find the 6th. Ross insists there must have been only 5 since I don't do numbers well. Yeah . . .the numbers/counting portion of my brain is broken and malfunctions under the least stress, but something completely different does set theory effortlessly. I could never count to 140 when I had goats, but I knew at a glance if someone was missing and probably who it was that was gone and where to begin looking.
Here's the personality flaw I would like to grow in a healthier direction: Once I hear the crying, it never even entered my mind not to check. Once I saw the problem I did pause to reflect -- if the kittens had been dry or if it had been less than pouring rain, I would have left them where they were. Now we have 5 MORE kittens we never wanted, and I spent last night looking for the 6th.
My intellectual/tech self has no difficulty whatsoever identifying problem and solution. Over the the past 20 years, we've modified that chatter -- since it's clear that I am GOING to do certain things, however irrational, the intellect is no longer permitted to carry on endlessly about the essential bad judgement of Step One - follow the sound of crying. Clearly, I live out of a different part of my experience and the intellect needs to get on board and find a ways to be helpful and not just bitch about how stupid I am.