Flooftortion (floofinition) – The skill of bending and twisting one’s limbs body into strange and unnatural positions to accommodate actions or functions associated with an animal.
In use: “Once he opened a can, the floofs were right there, waiting to be fed, underfoot, forcing him into flooftortions to avoid stepping on them or tripping over them as their meal was delivered.”
First, a woman and I each were given a task to design a swimming pool. This was done in a wide building with low lights. I couldn’t see anything except our work. We each built one but came up with the same L design in off-white. We built them quickly. Along the way, we had lessons in ensuring seams were smooth and tight. Then it came time to fill it. I rolled a suitcase up to one side, inside the pool, jockeying it around on its wheels until I thought it perfectly parked. I then opened the suitcase and began pulling out clothing. I examined each piece, ensuring it was neatly folded, then piled the clothes around me. The clothes piles multiplied like rabbits during breeding season.
That segment ended. I was told that I need to come up with a new ear canal. I quickly devised one, put it in someone’s ear, then walked into it. The ear canal was straight, round, and light blue, but tapered as it went in, ending in the ear drum. “Oh,” I said, inspecting it. “It shouldn’t go straight back to the ear drum like that. The ear drum is left too exposed. Curves are needed to protect it.” Developing curves, the ear canal grew light pink. I backed out of it until I was standing beside a man looking into his ear.
A new segment began. I was at my aunt’s house. She’d had a new place designed and built, she said, effusively greeting me amid charming smiles. Many cousins were present, not just from that aunt, but from all my uncles and aunts on Dad’s side. I was about twenty. They were all eager to impress me and show me around. The setting seemed luxurious. Arched stained-glass windows lined the walls, along with paintings in gold frames. Dark green houseplants were everywhere. Dark green carpeting, and overstuffed leather chairs and a sofa arranged polished, dark wood end tables and coffee tables completed the setting. I could see into other rooms as well, glimpsing a long, polished dining table, part of a modern kitchen, and the side of a billiard table through an open doorway.
A cousin said, “Let me show you around.” In RL, this is a man who was four years younger than me, who died years ago, passing away in his forties from a heart attack as a pizza was delivered to him. This aunt wasn’t his mother, either; her youngest sister was the deceased cousin’s mother.
I asked where a specific room is. He answered, “That’s downstairs.” Seeing a staircase that went down, I confidently headed for it.
He caught up with me and asked, “What are you doing?”
I said, “You said that it was downstairs.”
“You can’t get to it from those stairs. Follow me.” He turned and led me up a staircase to an open area above everything. Looking down, I saw people with drinks engaged in conversations and milling about the rooms. My cousin pointed to another flight of stairs going down. “That’s how you get down.”
I said with some wonder, “You need to go up to get down?” I thought that was a strange design.
My aunt appeared beside me and nodded with a smile. “You need to go up to get down.”
The dream ended.
7:20 and 7:20 is when the sun will rise and set. We’ve achieved an equal number of hours on either side of sunrise and sunset. Guess it’s the vernal equinox in our valley, though the calendar says that today is Thursday, March 17, 2022. Spring doesn’t ‘arrive’ until this Sunday. But here we are, 44 F, with a projected high of 60, everything coming up green, blossomy, and flowery.
It was a dreamorama night but I awoke with Jerry Orbach singing “Try to Remember” in the morning mental music stream. That only lasted for about ten minutes before the neurons got up and changed the music to Billy Joel and “Only the Good Die Young” from 1977.
“Why’d you put that on?” I asked the neurons.
“What’s that mean?” I asked.
They shrugged again. “I don’t know.”
Guess I’d run into some teenaged neurons.
Anyway, that’s the theme music. I believe my convo with sick cat inspired the neurons. Cancer is turning his demise into the long goodbye. Many folks say, end his misery, but he comes to me for purrs, demands food and gamely eats, sleeps against my leg, and generally gets around with too much life in the tank for me to drain it. He’s probably in pain but I don’t think he’s ready to go. I think he’ll let me know when he’s done.
Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, if needed, when needed, and get the shots. I’m getting the coffee. I would offer to get you some but you’re on the other side of this screen. Have a better one.