...dream a little dream of me." Dream by Nat King Cole
There is a Situation. I would appreciate ya'lls continued prayer.
Yesterday I got news that we won't know where we're moving when Ryan graduates until week after next, which is ridiculous, because we're posted in 5 weeks. But it's not something I can control, and apparently the government thinks 3 weeks is enough time to find housing. God will work even this out. There are other details to the whole reasoning behind why they're waiting so long, and frankly, I'm too frustrated to talk about it. I'm just going to trust that God is in control and He'll make the good in this clear in the fullness of time. And like I said, I'd appreciate prayers for finding housing and packing and everything by myself since we kind of have to be ready to move out ASAP he graduates--or even, preferably, before.
But on the bright side, I got to talk to Ryan last night for TEN minutes (double our usual). It was nice to feel like we actually had a conversation, instead of just a quick, "hi, bye!" He sounded good, and of course, I see him today!!! I love Fridays. <3
On a less bright note, I managed to scratch my eye again yesterday. I am still not clear on how this happens randomly (this is the third time it has happened). I wasn't wearing my contacts an extra long time, I didn't change makeups, I didn't rub my eyes especially, I didn't feel like my eyes were irritated until it was already done. It always happens when I'm extremely stressed...my friend the Greek tells me that it might not be scratch, it might be an "eye hernia," which she gets when she's super-stressed. Last time it happened was midterms of senior year, and the time before that was when I was moving. This time it happens during the Situation...
It's actually a kind of funny story. I spent yesterday finishing up a dress for Gem, which turned out rather nicely, if I do say so myself (she will send me pictures from the wedding she's wearing it to this weekend). I worked for a while, and then noticed that the cat was frantically scratching herself. I examined her ears. Fleas.
How did she get fleas? She has never been outside in her life, and we've done a pretty good job (I think) eradicating the various fauna that had formerly resided in this house. I occurred to me that it might have come in with the new furniture--though I prefer to think that it didn't have fleas in it. Maybe there were fleas on the truck we rented and they got onto it then? Because Irony certainly hasn't picked them up until this week.
So I decided to take care of this problem immediately. I went to Wal-Mart (and that's when Ryan called, so I stayed in the car for ten minutes talking to him, thense learning about the Situation) and bought flea powder, a flea collar, and flea spray for furniture and carpets. I was too upset to think about the moving situation, so I focused all my energy and fury on those fleas.
I got home and ran a warm bath and got out the organic, cat-safe shampoo. I called the cat. She came sweetly trotting in, her eyes lifted trustingly to mine, and she even purred as I lowered her into the tub.
She froze as she hit the water.
I tensed for the inevitable.
The purr began again, and she began licking the water, tasting as her tail gently flicked under the surface.
She continued to purr, as I lathered her (she smelled like cocoanut).
She purred as I rinsed her off.
She purred as I petted her soggy form and adjusted my grip.
She stopped purring when I pushed her head under water to try to drown the fleas.
I wasn't sure how long I could hold her without drowning her, so I decided to err on the side of definitely not long enough, and soon she was curled in my arms in a fluffy towel; I was picking fleas off her, and she was obsessively licking all of herself as quickly as she could get it to her mouth.
She sat there with me combing and brushing and picking, and her licking. We had a lovely time.
Finally, I'd gotten eight fleas off her, and she was fluffy again, and dry, and beginning to wonder why I had been so cruel. I tried to explain, but I don't think she understood.
This only became more confusing to the poor kitten as I then proceeded to rub her all over with flea powder.
By now she was done being the sweet, submissive angel she'd been up to this point, and now she was terrified and confused. She didn't try to fight me (which proves that she is the sweetest cat in the whole world), but rather she slunk a few inches away, still allowing me my cruel powdering, but obviously hurt and upset. Understandably. I finished, and we took all the towels, washcloths, and my soaked clothes and threw them in the wash with hot water and bleach to make sure I didn't get any of the fleas.
She was still inclined to believe the best of me (why, I cannot imagine) until I started spraying the furniture with the carpet and furniture flea spray. The noise of the spray (and I suppose her associate with "spray" and "you're in trouble now") drove her to a frenzy of panic. She ran under our bed and shivered, howling. I decided to get it over with now, and sprayed everything, and then went and got her.
This was approximately 2 hours after the phone call from Ryan in the Wal-Mart parking lot and the whole Situation.
There came a noise. It sounded like an alarm going off, but also kind of like frogs. I was already on edge, and this startled me and made my heart pound, as I ran to the front of the house to find out what the noise was. Only when I saw that my phone was lit up did I remember that I'd changed Gem's ringtone to "Froggy Night" and I answered.
"O my gosh, when your ringtone went off, I couldn't think for the life of me what that noise was!" I greeted her.
She asked how I was doing, then began to talk about the Situation from her perspective. She's got more at stake than I do--she and her husband are hoping to be posted near their home, and he's worked hard to be at the top of the class (as did Ryan) to make sure he got that post--but, as part of the situation, they changed all the rules arbitrarily so that their hard work now is meaningless in terms of what post they get (you see why I'm too frustrated to elaborate on the whole Situation). We were both upset and having a good old talk-it-out-on-the-phone when I saw Irony.
She slunk out from under the bed, and it looked like a cottonball was hanging out of her mouth. I was glad she'd gotten back the spirit to play, but as I took a second look I saw the cottonball drip. It was not a cottonball.
"Hey, Gem, Irony is foaming at the mouth, I'll call you back in a sec, ok?"
I hung up and gathered my poor kitty to me. We went back into the bathroom (or the "chamber of horrors" as she now prefers to think of it) and wiped down her mouth, cradling her and crooning, "don't die, baby, momma loves you, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry!"
She mumbled and murmured and then gradually began to purr. I called Gem back, still holding the cat.
"Is everything ok?" she asked.
"She seems better now," and I told her the whole flea story. She said she'd be right over.
We hung out at my house for a few minutes, making sure the cat was alright, dealing with laundry issues, and then the conversation turned back to the Situation. We were discouraged. We were frustrated. We felt betrayed. We were angry.
So we went and stalked the guys. We got there just in time to see them leave, all running in formation down the road. We watched them, parking at various gas stations and driveways along the way as they ran 10.2 miles in formation. It was an amazing sight.
I imagine it was an amazing sight, anyway, but about halfway through, my eye started to BURN. I popped out my contact and spent the remaining hour or so trying to make my eye stop hurting and not lose my contact. And as it turns out, I've scratched my pupil. Again.
And that's what happened.
Regardless, somehow, seeing them made it all better, even the Situation. It also helped to rant to each other for a while, and then encourage each other, and to eat a quarter-pounder with cheese meal with sweet tea from McDonalds. And now it's Friday, and he'll be home later, and God is in control, and He is good. He provided Gem for me (and vice versa) and my job, and my Ryan, and even saved my Irony from flea bath-and-powder poisoning. God is good.
"My trust. You have lost it."
So, what did ya'll do last night?