Sunday, November 15, 2009

Rainclouds and Cigarettes: Cats


Harry: $2 (coffee)
Walt: $ .50 (jelly beans)
Timmy: $6.00 (chili)

An off day in Chicago. We walked for hours, explored various shops and alleyways, and were witness to a car jacking.

Tonight we're staying with a bizarre older lady who has several cats. The apartment smells like cat shit, and she refuses to let us shut the bathroom door for any reason, being that her cats' food is in there. This creeps me out, so Walt and I took a brisk walk in the rain to a nearby gas station to use their incredibly horrific facilities (dubbed the "Bathroom Chainsaw Massacre" by Walt). A small price to pay for modesty and seclusion while dealing with personal physiological functions.

Just as I have pledged not to turn down any free food or drink, as there is no shame in accepting charity in these times of vagabondism and diminished returns, so shall I take any opportunity to crash a little earlier if need be, and to get some much-needed extra rest. Particularly after a night that ended only at dawn, and particularly when the situation is so uncomfortably weird that an early retirement seems to be the only way to avoid any further anxiety. Bring on the dawn. I want to awake refreshed and free to shit and shower as I damn well please. It's a matter of principle, and I am a man of principle.

She spoke disdainfully of cigarette smokers with the angry, gleeful zeal of a racist, and likewise of dope smokers, knowing full well we were both. All of her shoes had giant lifts, some as tall as seven inches she informed us. I have no idea why.

And the cats. She kept referring to us as her cats' "new boyfriends". I try so hard to keep an open mind and not begrudge others of their customs or opinions, but when those rituals infringe upon my own comforts and interests as a modest and righteous individual, wary of his own safety and comfort (within reason, mind), a line must be drawn. This is especially true when I feel I am being subjected to inane ritual with a completely bullshit justification. I hate to beat a dead horse to a second death, but there are so few instances in which a human should be cheated out of basic amenities and and comforts for the sake of the relative comfort of a cat.

As I said, I try to keep an open mind, and to be respectful of others' convictions, but I've also been taught to not tolerate bullshit. This I cannot abide.

Morning Summation: Though I may have simply been falling victim to my own paranoia and neurotic insecurities, she did sit outside the (open) bathroom door and talk to each of the boys who dared to shower, as they showered. I waited until this morning, while she was at work, and took a wonderfully long, hot shower, disturbed not by cats nor cat ladies, and took full advantage of the surplus of fragrant and botanically-based soaps, gels, balms, and unguents that she had stockpiled in the shower. Now I smell like a whore.

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