Saturday, August 01, 2009

starting over

So can we call that a sabbatical? I've always wanted to take a sabbatical. It sounds much more important than a vacation. And as an unemployed parasite princess, I can't really take a vacation anyway, can I? And in my absence I have made some important decisions, so that's important, right? Now I find I am just a wee bit terrified because everything in my life is changing.

First off, I decided where I am going to school in the fall. Chicago. Um, yeah, where it is very cold and maybe dangerous. I'm as surprised as you are. But I fell in love when I visited - though, to be honest, there was a fair amount of cheap wine involved in the recruitment events. Still, I went there with a chip on my shoulder, at the end of a very long whirlwind tour of fancy pants law schools, and I left with a big fat nerdy grin of excitement. So this, I think, is good. What makes it even better is that they apparently loved me too, as they threw a nice chunk of money my way (presumably to keep me from loving Columbia which also gave me nerdgasms...). A great degree at a considerable discount - it doesn't get better than this.

Harvard, on the other hand, Harvard doesn't love me. They pity waitlisted me, which is fine and all, except for the fact that they got me all hot and bothered with that phone interview back in December. Looking back, I see where I likely failed the phone interview. And ultimately, the waitlisting was in my own best interest as this Chicago deal is nothing short of awesome. Besides, I was so borderline in the first place, I truly have to say it was an honor just to be nominated. But it has taken me some time to get there.

Yale's waitlist offer, in contrast, delighted me. I am much more likely to win the lottery than I am to get in off the Yale waitlist (and I don't even play the lottery), but this pity waitlist was like receiving an honorable mention. You don't win, but you get to know you didn't totally suck.

Anyway, I should fill you in on the rest of my school visits (and my many travels since), but it's all irrelevant now. Mostly I'm glad I got to visit my grandmother as she's not doing her best these days. Her 93 years finally caught up with her, it seems, and now even eating is exhausting. I'm mostly worried about my dad. Though he's very casual about death, I can't imagine he's ready for all this. I can't decide if it was good or bad that he was there when the decline started, but I'm thinking it was good.

Meanwhile, I have caved a bit to the black hole which is Facebook. I've even updated my status once or twice and if you follow me there you may already know that another terrifying development in my life is that my husband is buying a house. In California. A month before I leave for Chicago. I'm finally at a place of surrender with the process (which is good, I suppose, since the deal is set to close next Wednesday or Thursday), and I've been able to maintain a comfortable distance from the actual transaction (as in I got to keep my own savings and investments intact and my name isn't on the loan or deed), so I'm almost genuinely excited for him. This means, of course, that he'll be staying in California while I'm in school (though he's optimistic about catching up with me sooner rather than later), but given that he was flat out planning to be depressed by the snow and he just barely promised not to kill me with an ax (ala The Shining) - mostly because we do not own an ax - it could be for the better that he's not moving to the midwest right away.

The kitties, on the other hand, have no choice. As they have been hearing often, they are going to be "indoorkittiesinChicagowithMama." They are not certain what this means just yet, but they will surely make me suffer accordingly when they discover the truth. The great thing is, my new apartment has no carpet whatsoever. It is sad to know I am actually looking forward to living in the snow if only it means I will not have to attempt to remove bodily fluids from carpets anymore. And the couches? We haven't even considered replacing them. One less bulky item to move, right? That Ratty Catty, he's so thoughtful.

Actually, Ratty isn't even the gross one these days. He's settling into relative normality. I get to pet him on the regular and yesterday he even let me touch him outside. He wants me to pet his belly, I know he does, but he's just not ready to admit it. Of course it's been months since I've written and in the meanwhile he has been expensive as we had his teeth cleaned and his tongue biopsied. While the surgery was pricey enough, we also had to pay to have the carpets cleaned as he had to be indoors to get his antibiotics. It was worth every penny, though I found out I paid $20 too much after initiating service on line. (Good to know for future cleaning, but difficult to hear while paying it...)

Sadly, though, we've had more recent veterinary expenses. I came home Monday after spending most of a week away (going to Comic-Con with my little bro - payback for dragging him to the east coast...) to find poor OC all plugged up again. Apparently Papa did not respect the power of the Miralax and he failed to medicate OC properly at all. Just like that his 22 month health streak ended. It was sad. And disgusting. And to add insult to injury, I responded by overmedicating him in the aftermath. So what was normally a two day process of following around my feline fountain of feces became a three and a half day process, punctuated by four cat showers. Miraculously, only one of these showers resulted in bloodshed - a claw stuck in my boob (my right boob, come to think of it, the same one that inspires doctors to order extra mammograms - damned boob). The saddest part, however, had to be the very end, when an exiled OC spent the night outside on a dirty quilt that was waiting its turn in the laundry. He so very much wanted to snuggle me in bed, but there was this one spot on the underside of his tail that I couldn't get clean in the shower and the bed, the bed has seen enough cat shit for a lifetime. The look on OC's face the next morning, as his body was covered in dew, it said it all. He knew this was all Papa's fault and he was tired of eating his own shit. If he could get his hands on an ax, we know exactly who he would kill.

Anyway, I ought to finish blogging and start, oh, maybe packing. I've got exactly one month before my stuff leaves in a truck. The cats and I leave the next day, headed for LA where the kitties will be pawsengers on Pet Airways. I'm a little nervous for them (as it seems to be more a dog airline than a cat one, and for whatever reason they have to spend the night before I can pick them up...), but it is so much better than the road trip we had planned as the alternative.

Packing still feels overwhelming though, so maybe first I'll have a nap.

1 comment:

Merry ME said...

Welcome Back! I missed you, though the cat poo stories make it seem like you were never gone!!!

Congratulations on your awesome deal and exciting new educational journey.

I look forward to many stories of college life and snow ball fights!