Controlled Chaos

Wedding, baby, moving, lists, lists, lists. I wake up at 3 a.m. thinking of things I must remember to do. But it's all coming along nicely, I think. I've started packing up things I won't need between now and the end of the month, which turns out to be quite a lot of stuff. The books are packed, a lot of seldom-used kitchenware is, too. I will not be baking anything between now and the end of the month. Knickknacks and small pictures and the contents of the china cabinet are today's targets. I need to pack as much as I can this week, because beginning next Thursday the 20th it's going to get really crazy. I collect Cousin C at the airport Thursday before noon, and weather permitting, we'll do a late lunch at the Pisgah Inn. Friday is the wedding rehearsal/dinner. Saturday is of course the wedding. Sunday afternoon, the cousins and I will do the Biltmore. I'll be leaving for FL on the 24th, dropping Cousin C at her home on the way, and closing on my new place the 26th. After a night there on my trusty air mattress, the dogs and I will haul our tails back here to pack the things I couldn't do too far beforehand. The movers will be here November 1st, and I really don't want to pull an all-nighter of panic packing on Halloween.

And of course, we are on Babywatch. Girlmama is doing fine, her due date is this Friday, and she's really impatient with this pregnancy nonsense and ready for it to be over. I am, too - I've calculated that if she goes into labor before Saturday I can squeeze in a quick trip to be there. After Saturday it's just not practical, and I'll have to wait to meet my new granddaughter on the 24th.

My daughter is impatient for me to get moved and settled in for another reason. I will be re-acquiring a old cat. Higgins is driving her nuts. Higgins has decided in his advanced years that the rules of good cat etiquette no longer apply to him - he walks the kitchen counters yelling at the tops of his lungs, wants to be fed constantly, and is incredibly demanding and not like his usual shy and laid-back self. He has lost weight, too, and I'm wondering if his thyroid is acting up, and will take him to the vet as soon as I reclaim him. Higgins is at least 16 years old and may be older - we adopted him as a young adult cat in 1996. I have no problem with taking him to live with me. I left him with my daughter last year because it seemed harsh to uproot an old cat from his familiar surroundings, but if he's decided to spend his golden years as a crazy old coot, I can't inflict that on my daughter and her husband. They have enough on their plates without playing caretaker to a crabby old feline who may need medication. The condo has a large screened balcony overlooking the golf course. Higgins can spend his golden years relaxing in the sun, watching birds, squirrels, and golfers, like every other cranky old coot in Florida.

Sophie feels we don't need a cat; she's perfectly capable of sleeping in cat-like places and positions.

Break time is over. Time to get back to packing.