The cat story ended happily – her people found her through a Facebook post and came to collect her. I was honestly kind of sad to give her back, she was such a sweet friendly baby. But apparently she was deaf and blind, and nineteen years old, and her family had been convinced that she was dead after she got out (not unreasonably, given her age and tendency to stand in the middle of roads), and they were so happy to see her again.
So fucking relieved I didn’t hand her over to that shelter.
In other somewhat unexpected news, I found out that I could get really cheap tickets to go see Bee for a little while, because the visa is taking forever to come through and we are both tired and sad and feeling exhausted and need to see each other. Except, oops, turns out the only time I can go is, uh, this week. And I know it’s kind of pathetic to be so completely thrown off by this – people go on visits and holidays and business meetings ALL THE TIME with very little notice – but dealing with a flight that I haven’t actually had, like, months/weeks to mentally prepare for, is kind of…. argh. Anxiety, everywhere. I’m gonna forget something vital or do something terrible or the plane is gonna fall out of the sky, I don’t know, but something is going to go catastrophically wrong, or so my brain insists.
… shut up, brain, nobody asked you. I’m going to go see my awesome partner and it’s going to be good and I actually kinda can’t wait.