Christmas Cat Pee Thought Jumble

In Cariland, we have been hard at work, even for us. We finally (finally!) had a couch delivered; we've finally unpacked the last boxes since moving; we bought and (mostly) decorated a Christmas tree; and we've done our best to figure out how we're going to work all of our hours, have a rock band and a slew of beginning pianists perform at the celebration Thursday evening, and throw together a Christmas party on Saturday. Other projects have included exploring Sylvia the Badass Morose Cat's increasingly inventive locales of urination. I mean, who goes to the trouble of working a heavy drawer open just so they can pee on the sweaters inside? It's not as if she pees everywhere, and she does use the litter box appropriately an astonishing majority of the time. It just seems as if two or three times a week, she can't think of anything to do other than find some place she has not yet peed and then pee there.

Moral: Cats are jerks. Adorable jerks.

Actually, this is sending me back to my time working with kids in rehab, when three- or four- or five-year-olds who had been potty trained for months or years would suddenly begin to have accidents due to insecurity in their new environment and with their relationships. I worry that Sylvia isn't adjusting well or that I'm a bad cat mamma. Then I remember that the definition of a well-adjusted cat is that she be a jerk, and then I feel a little better.

Dearest Sylvia, we are going to work this out someday.

Anyway, I didn't come here to talk about cat pee. Let me just say that it is nerve-wracking to watch kids who I have taught perform, especially on as tight of a time schedule as I've had. Putting my own performance out there is bad enough, and I have performed enough times to know. This is much worse. This is why I'm not a real music teacher, probably.

My after-school job is just a couple of blocks from Temple Square, and I keep meaning to meander down there after work one of these days to see the lights, little to no effort added, but I just haven't found the time yet, and that's depressing. Also, going alone seems a little sad. Also also, Christmas, particularly at Temple Square, is a little confusing.

Also also also, that's another hour out of the day when an unsupervised Sylvia could be peeing in my shower.