So Long April, You Bitch.

As far as months go, April, you were the worst. And you can suck it.

Work was a nightmare, complete with late night stints at the office, surprise weekend assignments and, my personal fave, last minute PowerPoint presentations. On seven different occasions. You’d think that after the fourth time management approached me and showed an unnatural interest in me or what my evening plans were I would have learned that what they really wanted to know was how difficult it would be to convince me to spend six extra hours tackling a deadline in the office instead of relaxing at home with my family.

Also? It rained on Easter. Not so much you fault, April. This one has Mother Nature written all over it, I know. But still, I find you guilty by association.

And another thing, Jeremy, who has never had to dial 911 in his life, had to dial those digits twice this month. One instance was because of a life-threatening situation with a colleague at work. She’s doing fine now, no thanks to you, April. The second 911 call? Well, that was due to a careless driver who ran herself off an icy canyon road in the snow. Many would say that the driver is at fault, but I say it was April. Icy roads at this time of the year, really April? Come on, spring started over four weeks ago. Enough with the weather already.

Let’s see, how can I forget that my baby girl took a tumble down our cement steps this month, both vehicle registrations were due and three nights IN A ROW one or more of our smoke detectors sounded off sometime around 2:00 am? Awesome.

Also? My four-year old son learned a choice phrase at school this month that was absolutely foreign to me. I even had to look it up online to see what the hell it meant. When I finally did find the definition, I just stared at my laptop for several minutes shaking my head in half disbelief, half embarrassment. I then spent the next half-hour figuring out how to work that phrase into a conversation with management the next time one of them asked me if I could spare a few minutes.

And, my cat died.

That’s right, the month of April killed my cat. I have no other explanation for this. She lived fifteen years as a healthy, happy part of my life and then, for some unexplained reason, other than having feline anemia and hyperthyroid disease, my dear kitty was gone.

Please don’t mock me. Please don’t roll your eyes and say to yourself, she’s only a cat. Meesha was more than that to me, to our entire family. She was with me through the most turbulent part of my life and helped me get myself back to where I was semi-tolerable to be around.

I give Meesha credit for helping me with Reese’s Torticolis physical therapy at home. I would use that cat as a target focal point for Reese to help our baby girl stretch and lengthen her neck and torso muscles. As a reward, when Reesie would twist or bend around far enough, Meesha would allow her to gently grab her fur, her ears or her tail. Meesha never once complained.

We did everything we possibly could to make Meesha's last day with us an enjoyable one. She was bright-eyed, albeit a little slower in her steps. I spent the day with her outside and watched her pounce on bugs, roll in the grass and I rubbed her soft fur as she sunned herself on our porch.

Our home is a bit quieter now, my lap a little colder. Meesha was my partner in crime over here at Steenky Bee. Whenever she saw me reach for the laptop she readied herself to take her usual position on my lap. I eventually grew used to holding my wrists up at an odd angle to accommodate her curled up body as I typed away and posted silly stories about my life. Now, it just doesn’t feel right. I no longer have that warm, purring armrest between me and the keyboard. I’ll miss you, Mimi-girl. This place won’t be the same without you.

I'm so sorry I haven't been by to visit anyone over the past week or so. I hope you'll give me a little time. I look forward to re-stalking you and leaving highly inappropriate comments soon.