{ Sunday, July 25, 2004 }

Not About The Cat.


Over and over again, I endure this line of questioning:

"Did you relocate your husband and your children and everything?"

"It's just me.  I'm not married.  No kids."


"I have a cat."

"How old are you?"

"I'm twenty-four."

"That's young.  So, your parents and everyone are still in Kentucky?"

"My sister lives in California, but yes."

"It's just you and a cat?"

"Basically.  We decided to go on an adventure.  Are you originally from Arizona?"

"Do you have an apartment or something?  Where do you live?"

"I have a one bedroom apartment."

"And it's just you living there?  Alone?"

"I have a cat."

"But that's it?  Just you and your cat?"

"Right.  Just me and my cat.  In a one bedroom apartment.  I didn't drag any children or anyone else across the country with me.  Do you have kids?"

"How far is it to Kentucky from here?"

"Nearly nineteen hundred miles.  Are you originally from Arizona?"

"You just moved here?  Without a husband or your parents or anyone?"

"Right.  That is what happened.  I moved here.  With my cat.  And no one else."

"What did you parents think?"

"My mom seems to think that this makes her a success.  She acheived her parenting goal.  Her children are grown and out of the nest.  She says that is the point of raising children.  Are you married?"

"Don't you miss them?"

"I haven't really had the chance.  I lived a hundred miles away before, it's not like I saw her all the time.  I've only been here two months and she's been here to visit and I've been home twice.  I miss my roommates and my friends."

Then they're satisfied.  I AM lonely.  This IS hard.  They don't have to wonder what it would be like to be unattached and just move a couple thousand miles on a month's notice.  It wouldn't be better.  You would miss things.  Go ahead and feel sorry for this little girl.  She doesn't seem to know any better.

I don't think I would be nearly as aware of how much I am alone (with a cat) if my coworkers didn't keep pointing it out.  They make it very easy to throw myself a pity party.

I got it on good authority last week that it turns out they maybe don't hate me.  (I've been insisting for two months that my coworkers hate me.)  Apparently, they think I'm a snob.  I kinda am, really.  So, that's that.  They don't hate me.  They just think I think I'm better than them.  I can live with that.  It's probably more about their own feelings of inadequacy than my actual snobbishness.

posted by mary ann 11:27 AM