Thank you. It is cold enough now. What? You have plans for it to be even colder tomorrow? Really? Can't you reconsider that decision?
I'm sorry. What did you say?
It's too late to change your mind?
Well, what the hell good are you?
Honey, I need a clue. Because these constant house dreams are still not making sense. I've come to almost be entertained by them, especially when you change up the houses on me. There's the big house with the Titanic Ghost basement, the funky little house on Park Avenue, the strange house with two kitchens and the bedrooms that I keep discovering.
But they are all a complete mess, and I am tired of looking for garbage bags to clean the crap out of them. What are you trying to tell me? That it is time for me to get rid of shit that others have left in my soul? Because honestly, they don't make garbage bags for that.
That was an interesting twist last night, having me run into a car on a one-way street, then leaving the scene of an accident to go take a nap. Luckily, there was no damage done and when I got up from my nap, the police were very understanding.
Also, if you're going to keep sending me to these houses, please put a nice place for my chickens into the dream because I am sick and tired of worrying about them.
Thanks in advance.
Dear Baby Kittens Who Are Now Under My House,
Oh sugars. What can I do? I can't get under the house. Even if I could, there is no way I could get you. You run away. You are making me feel sick with sadness and worry. Why didn't you sleep in the cozy place I made for you last night? Did you eat some of that food I put out? It was all gone this morning.
I have spoken to the lady at the Jefferson County Humane Society and also the local lady who traps cats and now I guess I have to go down to the dump place and get a trap from Brian who works there and see if I can capture you. And then what? The lady who traps cats says that if they're too young for catch and release, she's not sure what they can do. She is going to call the Humane Society lady back now.
Do you see how complicated you are making my life?
Oh, baby kittens. I am so sorry.
Dear Elvis, Trixie, Mabel, Sharon, Ozzie, Bob, Eggy-Tina, Missy, Chi-Chi, Cha-Cha, Nicey, Butterscotch, and Lucille,
I am going to clean out your sleeping place today and fill it all up with nice, fresh straw so that you can huddle down tonight. Please try to stay warm and cuddle up together. Don't die.
I love you very much...Ms. Moon
Yes. It's me again.
Okay. I understand that you can't do anything about the cold weather at this point. Once these Arctic blasts get set in motion, they're impossible to cancel. I accept that although not gratefully. I would like to know why you always choose to send this sort of weather when my husband is away meaning that I'm the one who has to go out in the dark and turn on all fifty-eight spigots to drip.
Oh? You didn't plan that? That's just the way it is?
Highly unlikely although who am I to argue with you?
On a more positive note, thank you for sending me Maurice the cat because she is a lovely companion and she delights me with her huffy, prideful ways. We are both cranky and curmudgeonly and understand each other well.
However, just because that worked out so nicely, please note that I do not want any more cats.
Yours in humbleness...Ms. Moon
I already ordered the fucking purse. Stop it.
Fuck you...Ms. Moon