Another Day, Another Location, Another Drama

I get home with Trinket and she is still acting weird. I hesitate to leave her, but maybe a little solitude in her own house with her familiar things will help her shake the willies. I can't blame her for having them. The entire time we were at Charlotte's I kept looking for bats clinging to nooks and crannies in high places.

I feed her and change her kitty litter. I freshen her water and give her some treats. I fill her food bowls and fill her little plush mouse with fresh catnip.  She just sits under the dining room table with her legs compactly curled under her and stares at me.  Maybe she's waiting for me to leave so she can have her friends over for a party.

I call Scott to tell him I am leaving and will be there soon and to ask about traffic. He tells me the puppy is adorable (aren't they all?) and that she would fit in a coffee cup (a cow would fit in MY coffee cup) and that I should snack on something on the way. There is nary a crumb in the fridge at his house. If I arrive hungry, I'll be in a coma shortly thereafter.

I drive there. There is none of the usual hoopla on the road. People are where they'll be for the weekend and I am alone on the road. I could be driving naked and get away with it. 

I make it it Scott's in record time. He's not kidding. The fridge is so empty there is an echo. And all I was looking for was a bottle of water.

"Scott," I say. "What have you got going on this afternoon?" 

"Nothing special," he says.  "What do you feel like doing? I was going to grout the tile. That will take an hour or so. We can do something afterwards?  Is there anything you need to do?  Your blog, maybe?"

"How about I shop for you?  Get some stuff in your cupboards. School starts this week. You should have something to eat in the house." And frankly, Mama has low blood sugar.

I take to my recipe app on my phone. Pick out some crowd pleasers. I go through cabinets. I make lists. I go through the coupons sitting on the counter. I leave for Acme with my lists and coupons and Scott's debit card.

And hour later, I have shopped to my little heart's desire and gotten all the things Scott needs for a week full of dinners, lunches for himself and for his high schooler, and a few extra goodies for fun. I call him from the parking lot. We are making chili and corn bread for dinner. It's going to be a cool night.

"I spent a lot of money, " I say. "But I saved a fortune and the good news is you are all set for the week. I will plan your menus."

"Awesome. And I don't care about the money.  I am really happy you did that for me."

"Well you know it's love if I volunteered to set foot in the grocery store for you. I'd even call it love if I drove on the same block. I get hives just walking across the parking lot."

"I know, I was just thinking that. It's why you get your stuff delivered. I really appreciate the gesture. Really, I do, sweetie."

I know he does, and he knows I love him. It makes the torture of the grocery store and the uniquely horrifying people in it bearable.  It is like the Walmartians have come here because Walmart ran out of TV dinners and Count Chocula.

I get in my car and before I can buckle my seat belt my phone begins to ring.  I assume it is Scott calling back to catch me before I leave the parking lot because someone needs one more thing. I am thinking puppy chow, to be truthful.

No, it is Charlotte. I answer brightly but as soon as I do I realize she's crying.

"Char, what's wrong?"  I am thinking the worst. Or maybe that she's upset that her nest is emptier than ever and she misses her two college boys.

No.

She's just spent an hour on the phone with Mom. Say no more.