Just a few things that have been rattling around my brain.
1. I hate Clorox. Not any one particular product, but the whole company. Every freakin time I watch TV there is a commercial showing how important it is to use a clorox disinfecting spray on every.single.surface. in your home. I hate that for several reasons. I think it perpetuates the "I am a better mommy than you" sort of thinking for those who think they are doing their children a favor by bleaching everything they come into contact with. And also, it is creating stronger bacteria.
Children, and mankind in general, have managed to survive all these years without dunking everything in bleach. Some bacteria are good to have, and being exposed to others can strengthen your bodies immune system. Unless you have someone in your home who has a compromised immune system, there is simply NO NEED to go so far overboard in germ killing. I feel the same way about all of the antibacterial soaps available. Soap, on it's own, IS an antibacterial agent, and when used properly is pretty much all the power you need, unless again, you live with or are someone who has an illness that requires it, or you are a cardiovascular surgeon preparing to go in.
2. Not to go all Seinfeld on my thousands of adoring fans, but what is the deal with Coach purses? I understand they are nice, and well made, but honestly, when I see someone carrying one, all I can think about is that that person spent over 200 for a purse. A PURSE! And I am too cheap for that. I do own two supposedly Prada purses, purchased from an employee of the state attorneys office. So they are either evidence in a case for forgery or hopefully good knockoffs. And I paid about 60 bucks for each one of them and that is as high as I could go. I also get irritated with the logo. I guess I just don't see the thrill in carrying the logo as free advertising everywhere I go.
Anyway, although I hope to be able to live an abundant life as long as I am living, I hope I never get carried away and convince myself that carrying a purse that I paid over even $100 dollars is reasonable. If I have that much money left over after meeting my needs, I hope I am smart enough and kind enough to give it to a charity or individual that needs it more than I need a trendy purse.
3. It is spring and that means it is bug time here in Texas. I know other places have bugs too, but when people say things are bigger in TX, they really mean the bugs. And I am truly a bug-phobic. Really. Diagnosed and all. And I am outnumbered by the nasty little creatures, so I am doing my best to get as many as I can with the windshield wipers when I am driving. The locals actually refer to mid summer as cricket season. That is when giant huge crawling swarms of them are EVERYWHERE. They literally cover entire spaces in parking lots and manage to hop, walk, fly, and tunnel their way into the store and movie theatres. And not just the lobbies either. All the way into the theatre. And I know, on some dim level, that is quite the accomplishment for a bug, like running a marathon for a person. But I don't care, I just want them gone.
4. I joined a book club, and I liked the first book (The Kite Runner) and discussion, but the book I am supposed to read for next week just seems very chick-lit-y and that irritates me. I can read fluff anytime, but if I am going to meet up an talk about it, then I think a better, less highbrow book would be a better choice. I am buying it tomorrow anyway, but I am not gonna like it.
5. The new season of Work Out started tonight on Bravo. And yeah, I just panned a fluffy book, but I am all into the shallow drama on this show. It's MY blog. I'm allowed.
6. I was a good sister. I mailed a birthday card with $50 in it to my brother in CA. He is realy the only immediate family member I am in contact with, and we have only been close-ish for the last year or two. I have sent a lot of money to him, and that is not to brag, because I know he needs it - he has a degenerative spine condition and has not been able to work full time for a while. So it feels good to be able to help, plus if I ever need like a kidney transplant or something I totally have dibs on his. But it also bothers me, because a big part of the rift between my parents and I revolved around money. That wasn't the main problem, just the straw that broke the camels back. And it is sad when money comes between family. Or friends. I think that a family should be there to support one another no matter what, or else what is the point of even being a family? If you aren't interacting and caring for one another then you are just a bunch of strangers who happen to share some DNA.
My brother and I were never at all close before. He is either 5 or 7 years older than I am - I never remember which although I know how many years are between me and my sister and 2 other brothers. I truly do not think we have ever hugged each other or interacted on anything more than an strictly necessary way before, so I am happy that it happened better late than never.
7. Last, but not least - co workers who irritate me.
I work 3 ten plus hour shifts a week. On Thursdays, before I go to work, I buy milk, and celery to take with me and leave at work. I keep peanut butter already there, so I don't eat the crud in the vending machine. I got very angry this past week when I discovered that someone had helped themselves to about 1/3 of my carton of milk. I wouldn't have minded sharing, if I was asked, but I wasn't. Plus this was the expensive organic milk. And while I am back on the vegetarian wagon, I am not quite vegan yet and I wanted my milk! And the peanut butter - well, I buy the butter, I buy the celery and so I feel free to just dip the celery into the peanut butter and then double dip. My money, my groceries, my germs. So I was less than thrilled to see half of it gone with the serrated knife blade pattern clearly evident. So I posted a memo to everyone that it was mine and it wasn't placed there for everyone, and oh yeah there were germs aplenty. I don't really need a confession from the guilty party, but it would be nice if someone left a buck or two in an envelope as restitution. I can dream.
So, that's what has ben floating around in my head lately. Oh, and I hope everyone out there in Internet world filed their taxes on time. I'll be back soon to snark about Rock of STD's Two.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Little Me
Liz at http://tenmonthspregnant.blogspot.com/ has a post up today about her daughter writing on the wall, which made me think of my own graffiti days.
When I was maybe 5 or 6, the neighbor mom next door was Myra. Not only do I hate that name, but she had a moustache, and was a naggy whiny sort of person. I know it was back in the 80's, but I am pretty sure that you could get some sort of bleach paste or even tweeze. Anyway, I got the brilliant idea to write "I hate Myra, Jeremy" on the piano in orange marker. Since the piano was next to a table which was next to a couch, my crime went unnoticed for a very long time. Until the furniture was rearranged.
My parents brought in my brother Jeremy for a inquisition. Since "his" signature was clearly written on the piano, and he didn't care much for Myra either, he was found to be guilty, despite his pleas of innocence. But then, right before the spanking, one of my parents questioned why he would sign the message, especially since he is 3 years older than I am, and would surely have known better. All eyes turned towards me.
I am pretty sure I was spanked, but since my parents didn't much like the neighbors either, I probably got off lighter than had I scrawled another name. I was such a cute kid.
Where I live now has a little pencil graffiti on the hallway, and I just like it enough not to erase or clean it off. Some angry little dyslexic person had written "bicth" at about hip height, and I kinda like it. Plus, whoever did it was at least smart enough to use erasable pencil rather than orange permanent marker. So while their spelling may be lacking, at least the medium was well thought out.
When I was maybe 5 or 6, the neighbor mom next door was Myra. Not only do I hate that name, but she had a moustache, and was a naggy whiny sort of person. I know it was back in the 80's, but I am pretty sure that you could get some sort of bleach paste or even tweeze. Anyway, I got the brilliant idea to write "I hate Myra, Jeremy" on the piano in orange marker. Since the piano was next to a table which was next to a couch, my crime went unnoticed for a very long time. Until the furniture was rearranged.
My parents brought in my brother Jeremy for a inquisition. Since "his" signature was clearly written on the piano, and he didn't care much for Myra either, he was found to be guilty, despite his pleas of innocence. But then, right before the spanking, one of my parents questioned why he would sign the message, especially since he is 3 years older than I am, and would surely have known better. All eyes turned towards me.
I am pretty sure I was spanked, but since my parents didn't much like the neighbors either, I probably got off lighter than had I scrawled another name. I was such a cute kid.
Where I live now has a little pencil graffiti on the hallway, and I just like it enough not to erase or clean it off. Some angry little dyslexic person had written "bicth" at about hip height, and I kinda like it. Plus, whoever did it was at least smart enough to use erasable pencil rather than orange permanent marker. So while their spelling may be lacking, at least the medium was well thought out.
Friday, April 4, 2008
So tired
Words I have made up:
1. Fevil. If you know what fugly is, you can figure this out.
2. Stepwife. Because I KNOW this happens in the Ozarks or somewhere. And for the record, I was born in West Virginia, which gives me license to make fun of other places thought to be inbred or worse.
I took two of my usual pills for sleep since I need to snooze before work tonight. More soon, but I can't keep my head from wobbling.
1. Fevil. If you know what fugly is, you can figure this out.
2. Stepwife. Because I KNOW this happens in the Ozarks or somewhere. And for the record, I was born in West Virginia, which gives me license to make fun of other places thought to be inbred or worse.
I took two of my usual pills for sleep since I need to snooze before work tonight. More soon, but I can't keep my head from wobbling.
Monday, March 24, 2008
Am I a bitch?
I went shopping the other morning, after working all night. No big deal, just the local Goodwill. At the register, the sullen cashier did not say a word to me as I put all my goodies on the counter and even pulled the hangers off of the clothing for her. So after I put the cart back and watched her ring everything up, I just said "I'm fine, thank you for asking" in a chipper way and smiled at her. No response. Just the total amount. And after signing the receipt, still nothing. So I said "Oh you're welcome!" in an even more manic voice.
I totally feel like I am a bitter little old lady but come on! I worked in stores throughout high school, not THAT long ago and I remember being taught not to chew gum, to greet customers and to thank them. And now I just wonder what the hell is wrong with "young people" today. GD whippersnappers can't even say hello to a paying customer? I think I am usually a nice person, but this whole experience made me feel old and crotchety. I guess every generation thinks the ones after their own are going to hell in a handbasket, but is 32 too young to be this convinced of it?
I totally feel like I am a bitter little old lady but come on! I worked in stores throughout high school, not THAT long ago and I remember being taught not to chew gum, to greet customers and to thank them. And now I just wonder what the hell is wrong with "young people" today. GD whippersnappers can't even say hello to a paying customer? I think I am usually a nice person, but this whole experience made me feel old and crotchety. I guess every generation thinks the ones after their own are going to hell in a handbasket, but is 32 too young to be this convinced of it?
Monday, March 10, 2008
A little story about little me
Ok, so it was my birthday last week, so I thought I would share a birthday story with the world.
When I was about 7 or 8, I was invited to a birthday party for Jessica P, who lived down the block from me. It was to be held at McDonalds, where ALL the parties were. Suck on that, MTV's Sweet Sixteen! Anyway, Jessica wasn't really a good friend of mine. I think she was a year or so younger than me, which was a VERY important detail at the time, and she was also boring. She was the "friend" I played with only when my top tier friends were unavailable.
So, my mother took me to the store to buy a gift. We ended up selecting the unbiquitous Barbie. I wanted one too, and was denied. I was offered an imitation, which I refused. Imitation Barbies sucked. Parents who buy cheap toys will lie and say they are the same as the real type, but kids know the difference. Real Barbies don't have hollow legs and thin to bald hair, and clothes in strange colors like mustard yellow and eggplant.
So the damned doll was bought, taken home, and dutifully wrapped. I still wanted one of my own. The party was not for a couple of days, and the need to have This.Very.Doll. for My.Very.Own. grew and festered. So I unwrapped it, removed it from the box and played with it. The day of the party arrived, and I could not bear to part with the doll, nor could I put it back neatly in the box with all the twist ties that hold a Barbie captive in her box. So I hid it.
I knew where the wrapping paper was, the tape and scissors too. So I snatched up a dress from my closet floor and wrapped THAT up in the paper. Whichever parent drove me to the party was oblivious to the fact that my poorly wrapped gift was not in the size or shape of a Barbie box. And the wrapping was not quite up to the usual neatness one would expect.
I don't remember much about the party except that Jessicas parents gave me filthy looks, which only caused a momentary guilt response in me. At the time I just knew that I had my own darn doll, and that was all that mattered. For the record, I did have other dolls, and other Barbies, but I really needed this one.
It is only now, after over 20 years that I can think of things from Jessicas parents point of view - the dress I wrapped would have clearly been used, possibly stained, probably wrinkled and most likely not even the right size for Jessica. And though my parents had and have many faults, this level of tasteless gift giving is not one of them! I wonder if they ever thought that it was all me and not my parents who gave their little girl a used dress, so Marsha and Don P, if you ever read this, I am sorry.
And this, dear readers, is reason 25408 why I should not have my own children. There is no doubt that they would turn out EXACTLY like me!
When I was about 7 or 8, I was invited to a birthday party for Jessica P, who lived down the block from me. It was to be held at McDonalds, where ALL the parties were. Suck on that, MTV's Sweet Sixteen! Anyway, Jessica wasn't really a good friend of mine. I think she was a year or so younger than me, which was a VERY important detail at the time, and she was also boring. She was the "friend" I played with only when my top tier friends were unavailable.
So, my mother took me to the store to buy a gift. We ended up selecting the unbiquitous Barbie. I wanted one too, and was denied. I was offered an imitation, which I refused. Imitation Barbies sucked. Parents who buy cheap toys will lie and say they are the same as the real type, but kids know the difference. Real Barbies don't have hollow legs and thin to bald hair, and clothes in strange colors like mustard yellow and eggplant.
So the damned doll was bought, taken home, and dutifully wrapped. I still wanted one of my own. The party was not for a couple of days, and the need to have This.Very.Doll. for My.Very.Own. grew and festered. So I unwrapped it, removed it from the box and played with it. The day of the party arrived, and I could not bear to part with the doll, nor could I put it back neatly in the box with all the twist ties that hold a Barbie captive in her box. So I hid it.
I knew where the wrapping paper was, the tape and scissors too. So I snatched up a dress from my closet floor and wrapped THAT up in the paper. Whichever parent drove me to the party was oblivious to the fact that my poorly wrapped gift was not in the size or shape of a Barbie box. And the wrapping was not quite up to the usual neatness one would expect.
I don't remember much about the party except that Jessicas parents gave me filthy looks, which only caused a momentary guilt response in me. At the time I just knew that I had my own darn doll, and that was all that mattered. For the record, I did have other dolls, and other Barbies, but I really needed this one.
It is only now, after over 20 years that I can think of things from Jessicas parents point of view - the dress I wrapped would have clearly been used, possibly stained, probably wrinkled and most likely not even the right size for Jessica. And though my parents had and have many faults, this level of tasteless gift giving is not one of them! I wonder if they ever thought that it was all me and not my parents who gave their little girl a used dress, so Marsha and Don P, if you ever read this, I am sorry.
And this, dear readers, is reason 25408 why I should not have my own children. There is no doubt that they would turn out EXACTLY like me!
Thursday, March 6, 2008
Birthday Loot and a movie review
I am now officially loving my job. When I interviewed, the owner told me all about how every one there was part of a big family and every person was just so special. Well, cynical little old me sort of blew that off as just a standard interview team player kind of speech. The other employees had told me that since the pay was not great and the benefits non-existent, that the owner tried to really make us happy anyway. I sort of blew that off too, since I am so new to the company, and again more than a little suspicious and cynical.
I was so wrong. I had mentioned that I am going through a bad breakup and didn't want to make my own cake, so the owner baked a cheesecake for me. Thats right. Homemade, with fresh strawberries on top!!!!
And there were streamers, balloons and GIFTS! I was blown away by the generosity, especially since I have only worked there for a month. I received the Happy perfume, along with the Clinique freebie bag (they are so expensive, but their giveaways are great!), a Lancome freebie bag with all sorts of goodies in it, a quilted gold travel toiletry bag (prettier than it sounds), oodles of bath and body works lotions and potions in a very pretty spring-y tote bag, lip balms (I am an addict), and assorted mani-pedi type things.
Not only was all of this a complete surprise to me, but it came at just the right time too. I have to think it is karma, and that for the moment, things are going exactly as they are meant to for me, and will only keep getting better.
I also received a package of goodies from GEM - 8 rings, 2 necklaces, a beaded lipstick holder and a wall hanging thing that says "wish upon a star". GEM is the worlds best shopper of thrift stores and flea markets and always finds amazing things, although some of my goodies were new. He is incredibly kind and generous, as well as thoughtful - and he sends funny little cards for virtually every holiday. I will have to send my next boyfriend to a boot camp with GEM on how to treat a person really well and find little trinkets for special occasions! He has been very supportive of me during all the issues with S., and though he does not always take my side, he is looking out for what is best for me and offers oints of view I might not have thought of otherwise. I hope all of you out there have such a great person in their lives.
On to the movies!
I watched "The Other Boleyn Girl" on Tuesday. Reader(s), save your money. I had read, and enjoyed, the Phillippa Gregory book it was based on, but the movie was so so much less than what it could have been. I had also read that Rue McClanahan (Blanche Devereaux from The Golden Girls) was in the movie. But she didn't have a speaking role that I heard, and I didn't even see her, which was disapointing. Anne just seemed like a petty bitch, and not the very smart and scheming person she seemed to be in her life. And Mary was a total pushover patsy, but I think in reality she was probably just as aware of the political climate she was living in as Anne, but the portrayal was so weak in this movie.
So the movie sort of sucked, but I was out and about enjoying myself on my birthday, so it wasn't a total loss. I think I want to see the ovie about Edith Piaf, La Vie En Rose next, not sure if it is out on DVD yet, but hopefully it will be soon if not already.
I am pleased with myself for another reason - I have three cards, written in, signed, sealed, addressed and stamped to go out in the mail tomorrow. I love getting non-bill mail, so I am sending it to other people as well, and I hope to do it more frequently. In GEM's card, I sent him a little sampler from the "Subversive Cross-stitch" line that says "Please don't do coke in the bathroom". GEM is not a former club kid per se, but he was very much on the prowl in the 80's and will hopefully get a kick out of it. I am also sending him a lovely purple crocus/lily one that I got the pattern for free online. I am getting craftier in my older age!
My new coworkers have also given me the heads up on some possible apartments to check out as well as some to avoid. All in all, things are going pretty well here in Marias World. And still I am not taking antidepressants. I think maybe I am just getting better because I am taking more control over my life, and I am going to keep moving forward and being more positive.
I was so wrong. I had mentioned that I am going through a bad breakup and didn't want to make my own cake, so the owner baked a cheesecake for me. Thats right. Homemade, with fresh strawberries on top!!!!
And there were streamers, balloons and GIFTS! I was blown away by the generosity, especially since I have only worked there for a month. I received the Happy perfume, along with the Clinique freebie bag (they are so expensive, but their giveaways are great!), a Lancome freebie bag with all sorts of goodies in it, a quilted gold travel toiletry bag (prettier than it sounds), oodles of bath and body works lotions and potions in a very pretty spring-y tote bag, lip balms (I am an addict), and assorted mani-pedi type things.
Not only was all of this a complete surprise to me, but it came at just the right time too. I have to think it is karma, and that for the moment, things are going exactly as they are meant to for me, and will only keep getting better.
I also received a package of goodies from GEM - 8 rings, 2 necklaces, a beaded lipstick holder and a wall hanging thing that says "wish upon a star". GEM is the worlds best shopper of thrift stores and flea markets and always finds amazing things, although some of my goodies were new. He is incredibly kind and generous, as well as thoughtful - and he sends funny little cards for virtually every holiday. I will have to send my next boyfriend to a boot camp with GEM on how to treat a person really well and find little trinkets for special occasions! He has been very supportive of me during all the issues with S., and though he does not always take my side, he is looking out for what is best for me and offers oints of view I might not have thought of otherwise. I hope all of you out there have such a great person in their lives.
On to the movies!
I watched "The Other Boleyn Girl" on Tuesday. Reader(s), save your money. I had read, and enjoyed, the Phillippa Gregory book it was based on, but the movie was so so much less than what it could have been. I had also read that Rue McClanahan (Blanche Devereaux from The Golden Girls) was in the movie. But she didn't have a speaking role that I heard, and I didn't even see her, which was disapointing. Anne just seemed like a petty bitch, and not the very smart and scheming person she seemed to be in her life. And Mary was a total pushover patsy, but I think in reality she was probably just as aware of the political climate she was living in as Anne, but the portrayal was so weak in this movie.
So the movie sort of sucked, but I was out and about enjoying myself on my birthday, so it wasn't a total loss. I think I want to see the ovie about Edith Piaf, La Vie En Rose next, not sure if it is out on DVD yet, but hopefully it will be soon if not already.
I am pleased with myself for another reason - I have three cards, written in, signed, sealed, addressed and stamped to go out in the mail tomorrow. I love getting non-bill mail, so I am sending it to other people as well, and I hope to do it more frequently. In GEM's card, I sent him a little sampler from the "Subversive Cross-stitch" line that says "Please don't do coke in the bathroom". GEM is not a former club kid per se, but he was very much on the prowl in the 80's and will hopefully get a kick out of it. I am also sending him a lovely purple crocus/lily one that I got the pattern for free online. I am getting craftier in my older age!
My new coworkers have also given me the heads up on some possible apartments to check out as well as some to avoid. All in all, things are going pretty well here in Marias World. And still I am not taking antidepressants. I think maybe I am just getting better because I am taking more control over my life, and I am going to keep moving forward and being more positive.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
It's my birthday
So today is my birthday. And reading my blog, I am not seeing all that I am. Most of the time I am very funny and snarky, but so far the blog has been more about heavier topics. So, I am going to try and balance things out more.
Yesterday S. bought me lunch at my favorite little Italian place. Not the Olive Garden. Lunch was delicious, but we then had a disastrous fight. I am pretty sure at this point there is nothing left to salvage between us. I shouldn't have even gone, because I KNOW he is not the one for me. But what was kind of liberating for me is that I ended up telling him (though not in a calm way) some of the things that were wrong, like his failure to stand up for me to his troglodyte friends. That had bothered me for a really long time, and I am glad I got it off of my mind.
But, happier news. My new job is having a little birthday party for me today. I think I will be getting some cake, and some more Happy perfume, which is what I usually wear. And while it does strike me as sad that I am getting more from virtual strangers at a new job than friends and family, I am happy to be getting anything at all. My new boss had asked me a few days ago what I wanted. I wasn't sure and she asked what perfumes I liked. I told her Happy, but I didn't want to ask for something expensive-ish like that from a job I have only had for a month. Now I am wondering if it is too late to request a subscription to e-Harmony!
And last but not least, I got into a conversation with a squirrel. I think. Eddie (the furball) was staring intently out the screen into the trees outside. So I crouched down next to him and saw a squirrel hanging out on a branch. It was making this chittering noise, and had Eddie enthralled. So I started imitating the sound. Both squirrel and cat looked at me in shock, then the squirrel began chittering back at me! It went back and forth for a few minutes, and the squirrel hopped down a few branches to be closer to this strange new thing talking to it. We all looked at one another and then the squirrel meandered away. I have no idea if the sounds I was making were threatening or more of a squirrelly greeting. I was probably the rodent equivalent of a babbling homeless person, but it was still a neat experience. I do like nature, although not things with more than four legs.
Eddie is not happy that I have a job. I have been home with him for almost a year, and when I come back from work he is more affectionate that he has ever been in his whole life. He follows me from room to room and cries when I close a door in between us. When I sit at the computer he no longer perches on the hutch above the monitor, instead he sprawls out next to the keyboard and tries to sleep with his head on my left hand. All this leads me to be thankful I do not have children; if I have this level of separation anxiety and neurotic-ness from a cat, there would be no hope of having a well adjusted child!
Yesterday S. bought me lunch at my favorite little Italian place. Not the Olive Garden. Lunch was delicious, but we then had a disastrous fight. I am pretty sure at this point there is nothing left to salvage between us. I shouldn't have even gone, because I KNOW he is not the one for me. But what was kind of liberating for me is that I ended up telling him (though not in a calm way) some of the things that were wrong, like his failure to stand up for me to his troglodyte friends. That had bothered me for a really long time, and I am glad I got it off of my mind.
But, happier news. My new job is having a little birthday party for me today. I think I will be getting some cake, and some more Happy perfume, which is what I usually wear. And while it does strike me as sad that I am getting more from virtual strangers at a new job than friends and family, I am happy to be getting anything at all. My new boss had asked me a few days ago what I wanted. I wasn't sure and she asked what perfumes I liked. I told her Happy, but I didn't want to ask for something expensive-ish like that from a job I have only had for a month. Now I am wondering if it is too late to request a subscription to e-Harmony!
And last but not least, I got into a conversation with a squirrel. I think. Eddie (the furball) was staring intently out the screen into the trees outside. So I crouched down next to him and saw a squirrel hanging out on a branch. It was making this chittering noise, and had Eddie enthralled. So I started imitating the sound. Both squirrel and cat looked at me in shock, then the squirrel began chittering back at me! It went back and forth for a few minutes, and the squirrel hopped down a few branches to be closer to this strange new thing talking to it. We all looked at one another and then the squirrel meandered away. I have no idea if the sounds I was making were threatening or more of a squirrelly greeting. I was probably the rodent equivalent of a babbling homeless person, but it was still a neat experience. I do like nature, although not things with more than four legs.
Eddie is not happy that I have a job. I have been home with him for almost a year, and when I come back from work he is more affectionate that he has ever been in his whole life. He follows me from room to room and cries when I close a door in between us. When I sit at the computer he no longer perches on the hutch above the monitor, instead he sprawls out next to the keyboard and tries to sleep with his head on my left hand. All this leads me to be thankful I do not have children; if I have this level of separation anxiety and neurotic-ness from a cat, there would be no hope of having a well adjusted child!
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