...written hours prior to posting...
I feel like shit.
My best friend is moving out, moving to the city. After she's gone, I'll be the only female in my house -- I'll be sharing with 5 males. She's taking her cats with her...
Fuck.
I feel so selfish, but what could I do? I could have sacrificed my already-scant sanity by trying to share a room with her so she could afford to stay. She didn't want to be on any lease, preferring the option to leave whenever she wanted, and I just couldn't have that slamming down on my head.
Besides, I love my room. It has this nice balconey and is surrounded by hidden crawlspace. If I lock myself out, I have to crawl out the bathroom and onto the roof to get in my window. Roof-climbing brings me back to my youth, the days when I was young and very stupid indeed, carefree in my ignorance of the world.
She's taking her cats even, making me the only female of any species to take haven under that roof (unless the mold under the stove might be female; I daren't check, really). She said I could keep the cat I love best, if I pay her 95$ USD to repay her for the cost of neutering the cat in early October. I think that's a little unfair.
Fuck, I can't even keep a cat around me, much less a friend.
I'm putting off going back to my house for as long as I can. I -- don't want to. I don't want to go there and see some smarmy chap moving his crap into the room that I still think of as my sister's. I don't want to hear the sole remaining cat (belonging to another roommate) yowling again because he feels so lonely. I don't want to go back and be alone.
And fuck again. Her mom thinks it's not safe to leave the cats there, that we'd neglect them. Obviously not, as we're obligated to pay $75 for the little bastard and $95 for the darling who comes when I call for her. If I'm expected to pay $95 for a mongrel cat, not even a cute kitten anymore, and then turn around and supply food, cat litter, future vet expenses and so forth -- I am going to DAMNED well take care of that fucking cat.
I think it would be good for me to have a cat. It would give me an obligation to return to my house regularly, or at the very least, keep in touch with my housemates, to make arrangements for them to feed the little one or change the cat litter. I would not do this lightly; I would offer some token in return, because the cat would then be my pet and my responsibility. It would be a little life that needed me, and liked me, and strode into my room just to play.
Of course, I don't get a cat, because I am poor. I'll be fucked and still a virgin if I figure out how anybody expects me to pay for the privilege of paying more money, particularly as I had to shovel my mom's driveway just to get the cash to gas up my car. I have to work for it now, you see. 2004 is not shaping up to be a good year for me. All my female friends gone, no dating prospects, no cute guys around (except my housemates, who are off-limits by rules we all agreed to before moving in, and anyway, why wreck a good friendship?)...
Fuuuuuuck.
I don't usually swear this much. I swear often, but only in passing. This is a special occasion. I feel like the dumping ground for -- well, not everyone, but a lot of people's problems.
And the people around me do have problems. My friend, the one moving out, called last night and told me her boyfriend is moving across the damn country. It's not like I think this is an easy time for her. I just --
--I'm just fucking selfish, okay? I am scum! No. No, I'm not scum. I am self-centred, though.
Want kitty. I'm sick of people pulling the cats I love out from under me. I used to have two cats, whom I loved to death. Their names, which live on, are Pasht and Jaina. Pasht was a two or three year old momma cat, and Jaina was about the same age (and build, actually) as the cat whom I am going to miss very soon. I was going to give Jaina to my art teacher, who had a farm and took in cats that needed homes. While I was recovering from having my wisdom teeth out (dental work wipes me on my ass, and the pain medication made me zonk) -- anyway, I was asleep and recovering when my brother TJ gave Jaina away to people answering an ad for kittens. I still haven't really forgiven him for that; I don't know that I ever will. Jaina was my baby.
I couldn't take Pasht with me, either. I was graduating high school when my mother moved out of my father's house, leaving the cats there. Within six months, none remained to answer my call of food pan on concrete. None.
I almost had a kitten last year. A housemate was moving out and said we could keep any of his four cats we liked. (After he left, we instituted a one pet per person rule in the house, but bent it for my best friend -- I agreed to waive my right to a pet for so long as her two cats were in the house.) Anyway, there was this gorgeous black cat. Fluffy, spirited, adorable, and black. She was a dream.
Then, the day before the other cats were leaving, she got stuck in Sin's room, made a mess on his bed and in the shower, shredded the plastic on every bag of stored items that she could reach, and fought another cat. The morning before the cats left, she pissed on my bed and I had to wash five loads of bedding.
She left with the other cats.
It's easier to concentrate on cats than on Jo leaving. I would much rather talk about kitties. I know what to say on that subject. I don't have to think and I don't have to feel. Feeling fucking hurts.
Am I responsible for Jo having to move away? No, I can't be. I maybe could have made it easier, or helped her find a place -- I just don't know.