Headed Out

I'm so efficient! I managed to compress all the weekly chores into two days so I can hit the road for Delaware today, when I'm done writing this. Of course, there are still a few things that need to be done around here. The house is beyond ready for a dusting and a few sweeps of a wet mop. But with Steve having stopped in the middle of a paint job two weekends ago and things thus in somewhat of a state of disarray, and with it being only a matter of days before I get all these everlovin' plants out of here to their summer home on the deck, this prompting a major spring clean, I managed to quell my conscience and leave the house in the condition it's in. Besides, I'll be doing my share of cleaning once I hit the trailer in Delaware. (I'm not proud. I'll grasp gratefully at any excuse to get out of cleaning the house!)

The trickiest part of taking these drives to Delaware is dealing with the cats. Over the years they've become adept at recognizing what I call "trip movements"--the particular things we do as we prepare to leave. The piling of things next to the door, trips in and out to the car, bringing the cooler in from the garage to pack food---I haven't yet figured out exactly which of these things is the definitive clue for them, but something lets them know. Once the jig is up, they hide. Before they have a chance to savvy up, we block off their favorite hiding place (and so the worst for us), the furnace room in the basement, where their litterbox is. It's got plenty of spaces behind and above things they can squeeze into, safe from being picked up like kittens--the very idea!--and unceremoniously dumped into the back seat of the car. They could really hide for weeks in that room and we'd never find them.

Once they're in the car there is some anxiety at first, but they eventually settle down. Every stop, though, makes them think we're "there," and they start climbing all over, wanting to get out. A traffic jam with lots of stops and starts is the worst. Thank goodness, that seldom happens and the trip is usually pretty smooth. It always amazes me how they know when we're reaching our destination. Even though they've only glimpsed the scenery whizzing by from a car window, they know the lay of the land and get very excited when we arrive. Then, when we get where we're going, they have to be picked up again and taken into the house. They treat this like another indiginity, but of course they have no choice in the matter. (Ivy, the little black and white one, objects to being picked up only in this one circumstance, when we're traveling. Normally he's game for any kind of play we can think of. At twelve, he's as much a kitten as when we got him; none of that old "peel me a grape" attitude for him. Steve, especially, he follows around like a puppy, because Steve is where the fun is, Steve's the treat guy and the one who gives him swing rides back and forth between his legs. He misses Steve when he's on these trips. I give him his treats, but Steve I'm not.)

When next we meet it will be via an aircard connection at the trailer. Here's hoping I have the patience to post!