The other day I heard a story. It was told to me as a matter of course. As if there was nothing unusual about it. As if this was the kind of thing that happens all the time. It went something like this.
I’m totally bummed out. My friend is going back to the Cayman Islands this weekend to get a cat. It’s a beautiful cat. Its fur is so soft and beautiful. It is so friendly and sweet. It was hanging around the house we rented all week and my friend called the house owner and she is going to go get it and bring it back. She’s going to adopt it. I can’t go because my kids have …..
Wait. What? Where? The Cayman Islands? A stray cat, is it not? And she is flying back to the Spring Break destination less than five days later! I stopped listening at this point. First, I assured myself that I had heard these words in that order and I wasn’t having a stroke. And then I realized this was an augmented reality that I did not share. In what universe of wedded bliss could this occur? Her husband is on board with his wife flying to a tropical locale for the sole intent of acquiring a quasi- feral cat. There are so many layers of I can’t imagine this for me to unpack, not to mention the fact that hordes of homeless cats can be found in spitting distance of basically anywhere. There can be only one explanation – a magic vagina.
Currently, I am in intense negotiations over a badminton net. And I am losing. I would like one in the yard. My husband stands firm on the position that it is an eyesore and an impediment to easy mowing. Do you see the difference here? A stray cat from another country? People give them away. They literally poop in your house. It requires a plane ticket with less than the twenty one day notice to retrieve. I just want two poles and a net.
I do not have a magic vagina. I would say it’s more of the Kirkland Signature variety. I mean, it’s not terrible, you need a membership- but it’s the basic model, a slight grade above generic. I think I’ve always known this.
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