I woke up to the familiar twinge of my bladder. After peeing, I got back in bed and huddled close to AJ. He groaned a bit and rolled onto his belly. In the dark, his shoulder looked pocked with sheet indents. I ran a hand over it. Smooth. It was his nautilus tattoo, penned into his skin with black ink, unfinished. I love those tattoos, the ones I call ammonites because I love fossils. I can picture him in my head, his big brown eyes and narrow face. High cheekbones, exaggerated nose and full lips. I picture him saying It's a NAUTILUS! with a look that could be mistaken for annoyance, but is definitely mostly love.
The sound of gravely litter and claws scratching plastic brings me back from my daydream. Seconds later, I hear the sound of vomiting. Cat vomiting. I hope it is CJ's cat. (CJ is AJ's sister and she lives with us). I haven't seen EC use the litter box in days and I assume it can't be her. I get up to check, just in case.
EC is on the carpet in the hallway and she's already vomited, but she's not done. Her skinny little body looks wasted. She throws up two more times while I run to the kitchen to get the paper towels and carpet cleaner. The carpet cleaner's smell is the worst. Because I only use it for cat vomit, it has taken on the identity of what cat puke smells like.
The vomit is easy to clean, but I realize that EC has also crapped. And it's not normal. It's haven't-eaten-in-a-day-and-barely-at-all-for-a-week crap. And it's everywhere. In the litter box. On the carpet. On the hardwood floor. On the cat.
I clean up what I can and then grab EC and hold her over the sink and wash her feet and legs and backside. I am sick of making my cat do things she doesn't want to do; take medicine that makes her sick, drag her to the vet's office, be touched. I offer her some food when I'm done, just in case (she stopped eating again yesterday and I am starting to get angry when she won't take food...but I know it's not really anger). She doesn't eat. I'm not surprised. I put the piece of crap from the litter box into a baggie, just in case the vet wants to test it. I will be dragging EC there in another 5 hours.
My eyes itch. I need to get a handle on the eczema again. I need to buy books for school and finish that book I started before I don't have time to read it. I need to clean out the fridge and throw away the week-old leftovers. I need to RSVP to my cousin's wedding invitation. I need to go to the gym, pay the dentist, fix my car, repair my credit.
But mostly, I need to get back in bed, curl myself up next to the gorgeous tattooed man sleeping there and let his soft breathing lull me back to sleep.
P.S. *spoiler warning* The X-files movie was fracking awful. Terrible. Cringe-inducing. Crap. That said, if you are unhealthily obsessed with seeing Mulder and Scully hook it up, then it's worth sitting through. They don't do it or anything, but they totally snog. And cuddle in bed. And Mulder gets nekkid from the waist up. Which isn't all that exciting. But he is hot.