Journal of a Sabbatical

September 9, 1998

bleach

Copyright © 1998, Janet I. Egan

Besides waking up in the middle of the night wondering whether there are salt marshes in California and realizing I have no idea of the nesting habits of the snowy plover, I liked sleeping in the cold with the windows open and a blanket over me. I fell asleep reading Spartina , hence the late night thoughts of salt marshes. I have no idea why I was thinking of snowy plovers as they are a west coast bird. A decidedly western theme emerges Hmm. I did overhear one of those "why people who move from here to California never come back " conversations at Starbucks yesterday - complete with some poor soul who had moved here from California for a job and still hadn't adjusted...Somehow this must have merged with the intense Rhode Islandness of Spartina in my hypnoid state.

Naturally, I lay slug-abed trying to sort out my bizarre thoughts - visualizing every stretch of California coast I'd ever trodden on and not seeing a single strand of spartina. Then the alarm finally went off. I dragged my feet some more but finally got going to the shelter. I ordered two egg and cheese biscuits at the McDonald's drive-thru and stopped at Perfecto's for real coffee. Perfecto's was packed. Jammed. Jam-packed. Every table was full. The line was practically out the door. I waited patiently and waited some more, not realizing how late I was becoming because my watch stopped weeks ago and I haven't gotten it fixed yet. I've been kinda liking not wearing a watch.

I ate one and almost a half of the egg and cheese biscuits despite their repellent greasiness. The coffee was so hot I couldn't get more than a sip of it down until I was almost at the shelter. I ended up throwing away the remnants of the grease sandwiches and bringing the coffee in with me to the sink. Roberta, Bob, and Nora were all leaving when I came in. I knew I wasn't that late! Turns out Roberta was taking a cigarette break (although she claims to have given up smoking), Nora was taking the trash out, and Bob had volunteered to go buy coffee and donuts for them as they anticipated a long morning.

Maine was standing vigil at the door looking for opportunities to escape. Cats were everywhere, climbing on everything. I think they felt energized by the crisper, fall-like weather the same as I did.

The litterboxes from the sick room were dirtier than usual. Turns out they're using some of that awful litter we complained about last year. I had to soak some of them in straight bleach because the soil had seeped into the plastic so badly I couldn't get it off with scrubbing. So many cats tried to drink it if I put it down on the counter, that I just held each one that I soaked in my hands and walked around with it while it soaked breathing in the bleach fumes. With wet hands and my innate clumsiness I managed to put too much bleach into the sink too. So I was breathing fumes and my eyes were stinging as I was washing.

Bonnie dropped some plastic medicine droppers she was done with into the sink while I was doing litterboxes. Since that's a no-no I had to fish them out and bleach them. No washing dishes/medicine droppers in the same water as litterboxes even if you put bleach in the water. Hmm, this rule is from before the policy of using bleach on everything instead of just the sick and quarantine stuff. Maybe we need to revisit this policy (see, I can still speak managerial jargon even though I left it all behind).

By the time I finished up I felt like my skin was coming off and my eyes were watering so badly I had to wipe them constantly - making sure I didn't have any more bleach on my hands.

Sometimes these entries are about cats, sometimes they're about bleach.