A big weekend here at the Ditmarstons. Wyatt returned home from camp and we all felt very weird. Very. Did he still like us? Were we as morally upstanding as his camp communicated that people must be? That was quickly followed by Saturday, where we did single-handed combat with ancient sibling-related shame issues.

But today was really the banner day, the day that determined many future days. We got kittens. Yes, the rehoming bitch of the year has risked it all on two little ladies currently named Sasha and Penny. Those are their real shelter names so be gentle with them. They may become the actual Ditmarston names. We don’t know yet.

It’s just been a banner day. Hopefully Calvin and I can have a vicious spat later on to negate it and restore the status quo of my dominant mind set. I just went inside to give him a hug and say that we had done such a great job with just dealing.

Self congratulations ring out: family edition

Thank you! I flew in for this and boy are my arms tired. Yesterday evening I spent being myself, performative in many ways although I am a performative personality, but that wasn’t quite the point for this even. I was myself in a friendly but not unaggressive way with my in-laws, a feat I would never imagined I would ever pull off at the beginning of my marriage.

And ultimately it was bittersweet; Calvin and I realized that we love them all and enjoy them all, and so sad because the relationship doesn’t exist yet and we’ve lost so much time.

Still, for me to act like who I am and not totally censor myself. I had a good time with the people. I didn’t spend those hours suffering through bullshit. That is what I ask from the world–just the best time possible. Is that so much?

We didn’t totally get out unscathed. There was a tiny emotional kerfuffle at the bitter end. I didn’t sleep well though. I couldn’t organize my brain so I could calm down and fall asleep. I just rotated through my sleep strategies, failing at them, rejecting others, contemplating zolpidem or lorazepam, hissing at Daisy to get to sleep and stop “bumping” everything, until finally I achieved peak icy isolation and fell asleep.

Whew! Calvin and come from families where we had to do a lot of emotional pantomime in order to keep the ship afloat. He had it from multiple fronts, as did I. For him, especially, it was impossible to have a voice.

So last night he did, and I did, and it was lovely, and we are both so tired.

But with all that emotional baggage being flung about, the cat adoption must wait until tomorrow, when my brain recharges. Suffice it to say that they are very small and very scared! But they are eating and using the litter box and one of them leaped onto the couch before attempting to burrow away and hide. Burrowing scared cats. They just get you every time.

I also chatted with this guy I see when I exercise. He hangs around the feral cat colony right by the river, feeding them. I’ve talked to him before and I am trying to hook him up with the other cat crazy people. He should do this rescue work with friends.

One more thing: last night Maggie dumped a bunch of stuff in the house

She and some movers pulled up to the front in an enormous moving truck around 8:30 PM, right after we finished watching Fast Times at Ridgemont High, so Calvin and I sat on the stoop and watched. They were moving stuff in. I checked with a mover. Her voice could sort of be heard and our neighbor on the other side confirmed that she (Maggie) was there smoking in the truck. I never saw her. Weird end of the day and weekend.