GGWoo

There’s been a large contingent of my co-workers, all women I adore, who have recently been reiterating their belief Jeff and I should really, REALLY think about having a child. We’d be so good and loving and blahbiddy, blah, blah, blah. They just don’t get the meaning of, “we’re selfish, SELFISH bastards” and what that would mean for some poor, unsuspecting child. We ARE selfish in sort of a not-for-parenting kind of way but I appreciate the vote of confidence from the gals. My real response, after the selfish admission, was that we have our kitties and as seriously wrong as it is, they’re the loves of our lives. I’m talking SERIOUS.

This is how serious. Jeff and I are taking a cruise up the East Coast to Nova Scotia next week with his parents (which is a whole other post from the boat, I hope), and leaving the kitties for the longest we’ve ever been apart. On the drive home from work tonight, I turned to Jeff and finally had to admit I was about an inch away from being physically sick at the thought of our kitties being left by themselves for a week. It doesn’t make it better that we have the sweetest local lady coming in every day who is allergic to cats, but who loves our dears so much that she’s willing to spend large amounts of time with them to keep them company. It only serves to show how wrongly attached we are to Tink and Ding but as God is my witness, I could care less. I’m completely, hopelessly the person I always made fun of my Mom over. I’m a crazy cat person. So in a way, we’re not completely, hell-bound selfish because the love of our little ones, but still, selfish in a, “let’s not put the safety locks on the hot-tub cover because we don’t have to because there aren’t any kids around” sort of way. I can live with it.