On the way to work last night I passed a person on the sidewalk. This was unusual for one very specific reason–the person was curled up in the middle of said sidewalk. I was running late for work and didn’t feel comfortable stopping, but I did call the police to let them know. The person looked older, and I don’t think they were homeless. Homeless people are usually in doorways, or by dumpsters. This person looked as if they had simply collapsed while walking. I’ve never had to call the police before. They asked me if I wanted to remain anonymous. I don’t really know the pros and cons of anomynity, and just said, “Um, sure.” I hope that my phone call in no way implicates me in a crime in the event that this collapsed man is involved in something shady. Or is dead. But seriously, I hope the guy is okay.
In the past three weeks I’ve had exactly three days off. But, ah, starting tonight this will all change. I have tonight, Sunday, AND Monday off. This will be my first-ever weekend night off in Chicago. (And this is assuming you don’t count that one weekend when I flew home for Christmas. I don’t count it, so you’d better not.) I told Tim, “We’re going someplace people go on weekends. We’re going to have fun.” I’m excited.
I’m worried Ashland might be retarded. She has a problem grasping the concept that pee goes in the litter box. She understands that’s where the poop goes, but apparently has trouble associating it with pee as well. Tim assures me this is simply because she’s a kitten and can be broken of this habit. I am slightly more skeptical. We’ve witnessed her going into the litter box, sniffing around, and then stepping out of the litter box to pee on the floor several feet away. I mean, come on. Clearly she’s not firing on all cylinders. Sunday shall be known as Operation: De-Pee the Carpet day. I’ve purchased yellow rubber gloves, a multi-pack of sponges and a giant bottle of Pet Stain and Odor Remover for the occasion.