Dislocation, Re-acclimation and Trying To Find One’s Purpose (Now With Kittens)

I’m kitty-sitting for my friend Lucy and her boyfriend, Jim.

This is Gizmo.

She’s a tiny kitten who has reminded me how much work goes into caring for cats, especially kittens who, like their human child equivalents, seem to get into everything. So far, my week’s been punctuated with me sounding like one of the mothers I hear in shops or on the bus, calling out to their toddling offspring: “Stop!” “No!” “Hey!” “Don’t you dare!” “I said no!” “Quit that!” “No! That’s not nice!”

Aside from knocked-over plants and inadvertent kitty scratches, though, there’s been moments of kitty bliss and just plain hilarity. She fetches balls of paper, first of all, which is uncanny. One night, I rolled on top of Gizmo during my sleep (she’s really tiny), which made me feel a little bad. She’s lately gotten into the habit now of curling up on my neck and face, for whatever reason. She’s funny, though–one minute I’m her best buddy, but if I leave the house for longer than two hours and come back, she gives me this “OMG WTF WHO R U?!?!” look. I’ll be minding her until Monday, when the Jim half of the Lucy-and-Jim power duo returns to London from some countryside canal.

I’ve been back in London for two weeks now and am still living out of a few suitcases, but that will end come Monday or so, as I will be able to move into my new room a few days early. I’m eager to be able to finally, properly unpack my belongings and give myself a real sense of place. Because my father was in the US Navy, I moved around a lot as a young’un. There’s been a lot of time spent in the temporary accommodations of hotels and the houses of relations–I think I slept on a sofa while in middle school for a couple weeks or so because the room we stayed in didn’t have an extra bed. The feeling of being in-between isn’t new to me, but it certainly isn’t a state I enjoy.

Still, right now, things aren’t bad, considering I have a place to stay and I’ve been able to manage contact with a few friends I met before I left London last year. Yesterday I charged up my old phone so that I could get some contact numbers off it to get a hold of some people, and that was good to do. I hope to be able to see some of the friends who texted back soon.

Today is the last day of my twenties. I’ve been called into work for a few hours, but that’s all right. I have my birthday and the following day off, thanks to a work colleague (and no thanks to my department manager, who had scheduled me to work both days despite my requests), so I’ll be able to meet my birthday with at least some dignity and grace, and a homemade pancake breakfast.

Advanced Tip for Pancake Aficionados: Spread some peanut butter on top of your pancakes. Not only will this taste wonderful, but it adds a bit of stodge to your pancake experience. You may scoff but try it next time.

Tomorrow I will be thirty. I may be temporarily homeless and not working at a place I can really whip a career out of right now, but that’s okay. Things can only get better.



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  1. Ah but when you say pancake do you mean US/Canadian style (or as I like to call them ‘proper’) pancakes or the flat, crepe like UK pancakes? 🙂

  2. North American-style. The crêpes that are the British pancake I feel are best served with fruit, Nutella or lemon juice with a dash of powdered sugar.

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