The Original Grumpbump

I've been busy lately.  I am working full-time and also took on a three-week part-time assignment transcribing podcasts.  In the middle of doing that, I got a call from my friend whose baby shower I attended last month.  She had her baby girl and we talked for a while about her birth (this was her first baby).  For my shower gift, I made a baby blanket, which my friend said she loves.  In fact, she loves it so much, she asked me to make another one!  So, today, I went to the store and purchased some more baby yarn.

Steve wanted to know why I couldn't use the yarn piled high in my yarn basket.  After rolling my eyes at him, I explained that I needed baby yarn, which I don't stockpile in my basket.  He reluctantly agreed that I should go purchase yarn for this project but made me swear not to buy any more yarn until I make a dent in my stash.  I promised him I would not, knowing that I had already ordered some more sock yarn from KnitPicks.  I'm going to start knitting …

I have a huge complex because my cat, Delilah, hates me.  She no longer sits in my lap in the evenings and when I try to pick her up, she immediately goes into her "there-is-another-cat-in-territory" growl.   I feed this cat and I want her to love me so badly.  I guess she senses my (increasing) desperation and she just retreats.

She responds to Steve rather obediently (for a cat) by voluntarily getting into his lap and sitting contentedly.  She also will sleep next to him in the bed when he gets home in the morning.   But with me, when I try to pick her up, she immediately voices her displeasure.  To add insult to injury, she even runs and hides under the bed to get away from me, when I want to hold her and squeeze her and love her.



Steve got her to come out from her safe spot with a billion treats.  Now she's sitting by the window and I'm crushed.  I can no longer call her "my cat" - she's just the cat that lives with me and barely tolerates me.