What The Funk

I’m supposed to be in bed, resting. I came down with a sinus headache two nights ago, which isn’t unusual around this time of year thanks to pollen allergies, but I can typically sleep them off without much recourse the next day. Assuming this would follow the same pattern, I went to bed early and expected to be back in fighting form the next morning. Right around 1 am, I woke up to a throbbing headache, and grouchily accepted my fate as the recipient of some sort of funk.

I rolled out of bed 12 hours after getting in it to find that I wasn’t the only one in rough shape. Robin stayed home from school and had amassed quite a mountain of used tissues on the floor beside her bed. She, too, had been struggling with a suspected allergy issue, but stayed in bed it was clear she had some other funk going on. It would make sense, then, that I would end up that sick eventually, so I made the decision to tackle as much work as I could, while I could, so I wouldn’t feel like a jerk for taking my own day off in bed. Like a stubborn, sneezy bulldozer with aversions to light, I blitzed through the house, cleaning everything, washing every stitch of dirty laundry I could find, emptying out the fridge, and all of those other weird-ass things that crop up unexpectedly at the worst times. Highly satisfied with a full day of work, I finally settled in for a calm, relaxing evening around 5…and proceeded to fall asleep.

I remember waking up briefly when Kyle came home from work, mumbly-shouting at him that I cleaned EVERYTHING before crashing back out. I woke to eat dinner with the intention of staying up just long enough to shower before returning to my glorious slumber. And then I heard Kyle say “We have babies.”

Friday evening, we decided an open space in the kitchen would be perfect for a fish tank. Robin (You know, the sick kid from two paragraphs ago?) has aspirations of studying marine biology to go on to be a Sea Shepherd, and has decided now is a good time to start rescuing aquatic critters as any. So, she has been slowly bringing home fish from the ecology lab at school, which meant we needed somewhere to house these guys, which means we now have three fish tanks.

There I was, feeling like someone hit me in the face with a cast iron skillet and looking forward to climbing back into my nice, cool bed, and suddenly we were having babies.

To make a long story short, at 9:30 last night, we were still scooping fish babies (which are evidently called fries? Fish fries? What sick bastard decided this?) into a breeder. In total, our tank of eight is now a tank of 22–14 of which are eyeballs with tails, and we’re still not sure mom is done birthing. This brings us up to a total of 26 fish, two snails, a ghost shrimp, one pupperoni and four cats. Oh yes, four.


Meet Jonesy, our new 9 week old kitten. If Robin was going to be bringing home half of the ocean, it only seemed fair to give Ginger a homie to take care of this summer, so Monday afternoon we dashed off to the Humane Society to adopt a kitten. I usually prefer to get adult animals, as they’re less likely to find a home, but with so many rescues running around our house as it is, bringing in youngins makes it less likely that we’ll have behavioral issues from the adult animals. So, we now have Jonesy, who is named after John Paul Jones of Led Zeppelin.

Have I mentioned Ginger is obsessed with Led Zeppelin? Because she is. Our house is full of artistic renditions of Robert Plant (“Rob Planty”) and Jimmy Page because her muse is a music lover, too.

Jonesy currently lives in Ginger’s bedroom to give him an adequate adjustment/quarantine period. This means that, skillet-faced and all, I am on kitten-sitting duty while she’s in school. Every two hours, I climb the stairs to check on the little fluff-muffin, making sure he’s acquainting himself with his litter box and isn’t getting stuck in the random places kittens tend to magically fit into.

I asked Kyle this morning if there was anything he needed me to do around the house. He said “Rest.” So, I’m resting. In the sunshine. On the back deck. I know I should be in bed, but now that I have all of this work done, and now that everyone is birthed and fed and snuggled, it’s a great time for me to catch up on doing stuff for myself, like, writing awful, meandering blog posts and fishing insects and maple seeds out of my coffee mug. I can feel that I’m getting close to full-blown funk, and soon my own Mt. Tissue will begin accumulating, but for right now, I just want to feel the sun and warm breeze on my skin. I think I’ve earned it.

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