Baxter got to visit the vet today, and I have never seen him so freaked out. He was jumping at every sound and smell, and didn’t even want to stay in my arms (or on my shoulders). He got two vaccines today, plus the vet looked in his eyes and ears and mouth and even where the sun don’t shine.
The good news is that he’s a healthy kitty — and hopefully he’ll be even healthier after we start feeding him his expensive new kibble to fix his tummy troubles. The bad news is that he was so scared he pissed in his cat carrier. Poor kitty.
This week, Connor got to spend 2.5 days at Camp Storer for Outdoor Education, aka 5th Grade Camp. They went on nature walks, studied lake water under a microscope, and practiced archery. Connor’s group didn’t get to go canoeing, since it was too windy, but other groups from his school did, which he found totally unfair.
Overall, he says he had an awesome time, and it was really fun. The food was good, and they measured their food scraps to minimize waste, just like I remember doing in 6th grade camp back in 1987. They slept in cabins with bunk beds — alas, he didn’t get a top bunk. His biggest complaint about his assigned cabin was that there was one kid who walked super slow, and of course that kid was assigned to be the line leader (which makes total sense to me, from the perspective of not wanting to lose anybody).
As for me, I had two glorious evenings free of parental responsibility. Evening #1 involved a mile run before dinner, ordering Chinese takeout via DoorDash, and watching several hours of YouTube. Evening #2 looked much the same, except without the mile run and with some sock darning during the YouTube binge. While I’d had grand delusions of being super productive during my “me time,” I’m also OK with having enjoyed some downtime.
Everybody was glad for Connor to be back home on Friday, though.
For once, I managed to take a Before picture to contrast with the After.
I had the itch to organize this afternoon, but couldn’t decide on a direction, so I gave Aaron a few options of things I’d been thinking of tackling. Of the tasks I listed, he chose the workbench in the garage.
Instead of my usual triage method — group like objects together, throw away the garbage, and collect the stuff I’ll need to put someplace else later — I worked from one end of the bench to the other, putting each item where it belonged as I came to it.
It took a couple of hours and multiple listens of the entirety of Wish (The Cure, 1992), but it got done, and done right.
