Day 20 (or: Coming clean)

Did I tell you how horrifying it was to take cookies to the firemen? Well, it was. I don’t know why I’m so chagrined about do-gooding, but it was a little embarrassing to be so public about it all. I know I’m blogging, but I really don’t want to be hanging my stuff out there for all to see. Even though that’s precisely what I’m doing. Having to explain exactly why I was bringing cookies to firemen was, it turns out, a difficult thing to do.

“Well…you see…I was in this bad relationship…”

No.

I said they were left over from a Boy Scout activity. Chicken.

Okay, now for the part I was avoiding by telling you all about cookies for firemen. I’ve had feedback saying that the Bad Relationship talk is lame. But I’ve also been told in no uncertain terms that I need to come clean about the Bad Relationship. Because this blog is a response to the Bad Relationship, and apparently one of my six followers feels that I need to be responsible to my readers.  And apparently I wasn't clear enough in my post last week when I described my inability to think of anything "good" due to exhaustion from too much smooching. Okay. Here goes.

I contacted him. Yes. I did. And I invited him over. Uh-huh. Yep. And we kissed. And other things. And now it’s over. Again. I’m sorry! I know I seemed determined. And I was. Am.

There! Happy, Kiera?

Blech. And that’s the last time you’ll hear about the Bad Relationship. I swear.

The whole thing makes me feel like this:

Speaking of funny cat pictures. If I’d had my camera (I’ve ordered a new one!), I would have had some fabulous actual photos of the Leckenby cats having a frolic in the bathtub. And by frolic I mean a cat’s nightmare visit into the depths of watery hell.

Yep. Day 20 of 1000 days I did something nice (I SWEAR it was nice!) for the cats. I bathed them. Because they were flea ridden. And the flea meds I put on them were making them itchy and I was afraid they were having bad reactions and were on the verge of death. So I had to wash it off. And the fleas. And instead of being on the verge of death from flea pesticide, they were on the edge of death from the indignity of being dipped to their flanks in water. Holly will approve because I have adopted her former cat, and he was in dire need of flea attention. Poor itchy things.

20 down, 980 to go.