Gripe Entry

Kitten from Hell continues to recuperate, although she’s worrying me a bit. She seems comfortable, and she’s active, but she’s off her food. The only time I saw her eat well this weekend was when she got sick about five minutes later. I’ll just continue to keep an eye on her, but if there’s ANY sign that her incision is giving her trouble, I’m taking her back in. The last thing I want to deal with is a full blown case of Kitty Kat peritonitis right now.

Today is The Prof’s 30th birthday. I’ve made reservations to take him out to a Thai restaurant he’s expressed interest in. I can’t say I’m really looking forward to it – I’m not fond of lemon grass, and it’s hard to avoid lemon grass in Thai cooking. Still, who knows. I might end up being pleasantly surprised. I gave the Prof most of his presents already. He got a jacket, an oil sprayer for the kitchen, and a new Indian cookbook. I left him a bottle of men’s cologne with a birthday card on his computer desk this morning – it didn’t seem right that he didn’t have any packages on his birthday, even if he did get presents earlier. Besides, the cologne is as much a present for me as for him. (grin) I’m very olfactorily oriented….

The Professor’s schedule is going to be the death of me. He might be able to bounce back and forth between getting up at seven or eight in the morning and getting up at noon on weekends, but I can’t manage it. If I go to bed at ten o’clock on a work night, I can count on him wanting to hang around and talk until eleven (or later). I have to start telling him it’s time to let me go to sleep about a half an hour before he’s willing to let me do it. I end up sleeping late on Saturdays, and losing half the day because of it. I love mornings, and I miss having them on the weekend.

It’s been nice having lots of cat pictures to post. It gives me a chance to feel like I’m making updates to my diary without actually having to say anything. I’m half afraid of what I’ll say, once I start talking.

The truth is, I’m tired of having no time to myself. The Professor wants my undivided attention from the moment I get home until well after it’s time for me to go to bed. I can’t spend time with friends on the weekend unless he’s invited, or he feels slighted and upset. He’s been on the east coast for over a year but has made no friends in the area, and indeed is only to happy to tell me repeatedly how superior the west coast is in terms of shopping, entertainment, night life, restaurants, you name it.

I’m tired of feeling guilty for his relocation to the East Coast (which was his idea, I hasten to add). I’m tired of being his sole social life. I’m tired of his heavy handed humor that mistakes sarcasm for wit. I’m tired of apologizing every night when I have to go to bed. I’m tired of having no space to myself. I’m tired of paying for the utilities, for dinner when we want to go out some place nicer than Chik-fil-A, for hotel rooms and car rental when we go on trips, for movies and museums and parks.

I’m tired of hearing how traumatic turning 30 is.

As one good friend has already stated in the comments, I need a vacation.