I really expected that I would dread coming home after a week in sunny Florida. I must be more Canadian than I realize. The cool air and dirty snow banks were a welcome site at the airport.
I had made an agreement with my husband before we left - He wouldn't check his Blackberry, and I wouldn't check e-mail and call D & J every day to see what cats were adopted. I'm pleased to say that we both honoured that agreement.
I did call "Poor Paua" the petsitter to make sure my gang wasn't pining away for us. Predictably, Ozzie pee'd in her sink and bathtub, and Bob pee'd next to the litterbox. Newman didn't have an epileptic seizure while we were gone, which is always a bonus. As always, "Poor Paula" did a great job taking care of my babies. Nobody seemed to miss us.
There was an adoptathon going on the morning after I returned home. It was weird showing up and not knowing who some of the cats were! Good Lord, I wasn't gone that long! But things change quickly with cat rescue. D & J filled me in on all the adoptions and problematic situations. I held my breath as they spoke and waited to hear that everything fell apart while I was gone. It didn't happen. As usual, I worried for nothing.
There were 267 e-mails in my Inbox. I muddled through them in anticipation that I won the lottery or something. (I don't think they'll notify me in e-mail, but I was hopeful.)
I woke up this morning to cat barf on my dining room table, and somebody had dug in my planter. I had thrown out some nasty old salami yesterday, and somebody had managed to pull it out of the garbage and had eaten part of it. Abracadabra! the cat barf on the dining room table!
((**Click those Ruby Slippers**)) "There's no place like home...there's no place like home....there's no place like home!