Sarah Bellum's Tales of Wit and Charm

I’ve never been a cat person. I’m allergic and my only cat experience resulted in tragedy. A high school crush gave me a kitten as a gift. I named him Christian Laettner-Slater Psychedelic Furry Cat. Not only was his name unfortunate, but so was his death. A week later, the poor kitty was crushed by our garage door. I cried a bit and immediately decided I was more of a dog person anyway.

Fast forward a few years. Fine. Fast forward a LOT of years.

What my new agency lacks in nerds, they make up for in cats. Yes, cats. There are at least four feral cats living in our parking lot. I ignore them, but everyone else has cat scratch fever– a rare and creepy condition contracted when visiting Ted Nugent’s website.

Where was I? Oh yes, the cat obsession. One of the partners placed a large dog house on our lawn, complete with a heating pad for the kitties. The following week I noticed the cat house had been decorated for the holidays with lights and tiny Hello Kitty stockings.

I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m jealous of a herd of feral cats. Those little bastards have more holiday cheer than I do…

I haven’t just been absent here.  I’ve also been absent from many areas of my life,  including my office as you can see.

Lately my office remains empty more often than not, while I attend meetings. My team finally replaced me, which is fine I suppose, just as long as they recognize I have better hair and much funnier ‘that’s what she said’ jokes.

Last week I was worried about presenting a media plan to a client’s board of directors. I’ve never been good at presenting and tend to stress out way more than I need to.

The night before my meeting, I explained to FSB(f) everything that could go wrong and how I would ultimately fail, lose the client, let down my agency, get fired and end up living on the streets. He rolled his eyes, but patiently listened because that’s what good boyfriends do when they want you to put out.

The next day I found this note in my laptop bag:

I was so busy worrying about why he thought I would lick a note, that I didn’t have time to obsess over possible failure. Needless to say, the presentation went okay and he got some.

I love documentaries, but watching them comes at a price. I am naturally anxiety ridden, so when I’m given something valid to worry about I do. A lot.

Last week FSB(f) and I watched “Gasland” – a documentary about the hazards of drilling for natural gas. The movie was great, but all I could think about was that my tap water was contaminated with natural gas and would kill asshole puppy or worse my house would blow up.

I was busy planning a living will in my head when I heard FSB(f) fumbling around with something in the kitchen. I walked in and found him with a lighter heading towards my kitchen sink. Worried that the house would blow up I grabbed my phone to document our death. iPhones are pretty much the same thing as an airplane black box, right?

We lived, obviously, but my gas induced worries aren’t over. I made FSB(f) promise to check for gas in the water once a week and have added “find Hello Kitty water filter ASAP” to my shopping list.