Big Help, Indeed

I've started going through the stash, washing everything in hot water with a little bleach. Yeah, I know that's not the way to wash Vintage Linens, but the odor of smoke and the knowledge of mouse droppings--well. If some things fall apart, so be it.

I set up a table here in the office, where the washer and dryer are, and started sorting stuff as it comes out of the dryer. It's just the first of four loads, and there's already a ton. I figured I'd make one pile for  Get Rid Of Now--like, you know, the dingy 50/50 blend pillowcase stamped with "Midland Memorial Hospital." That goes into the Goodwill pile. I don't even want to think about why it was in there.

Other stuff I will photograph--some is so astoundingly finely done I'll have to get a magnifying glass to figure out what they did. Shadow appliqué, maybe? I don't even know, but I've got some books. And if I can't figure it out, I'll ask y'all. Just amazing stuff.

I was showing my editor some photos of the piles this morning, and she asked what I'm going to do with it. I had to admit I have absolutely no idea. It depends on if I decide I can cut it up. If I can, the possibilities are endless. If not, then I just don't know.

Anyway, so I set up the table and started sorting in between work stuff, and Lennie Lulu said, "Why, thank you very much," and curled up and made herself at home.

I can't move her--I feel too sorry for her. She's got something going on. Tons of horrible sneezing, but no apparent infection (I'm glad for all those years working with vets). I don't know if it's a cold or allergies. One day last week she was sneezing almost constantly. Just sneeze after sneeze. I kept a close eye on her and figured I'd call her vet the next day. But the next day she sneezed hardly at all and seemed fine. And the next day she sneezed a little, but not nearly as much. Same the next day. And then yesterday she sneezed a lot more again, her fur began to look rumpled, and one eye watered a lot. So I called her vet first thing this morning. But she seems a lot better today (she hasn't lost her appetite at all through this, always a pretty good indicator of how a cat is feeling). (The vet is a mobile vet who comes to the house, but she's hard to get in touch with--you call and leave a message, and she returns the call at some point. Last time it took a week. If you tell them it's an emergency, she'll call back right away, but I don't want to be The Woman Who Cried Wolf).

 This is her "You aren't even *thinking* about moving me, are you? Surely not," look. She thinks she's going to get moved off the table.

One ear hears a bird outside. She was staring me down, daring me to move her (if you move her, she jumps right back up. She's the Queen of the House and doesn't take kindly to anyone who tries to thwart her).

So that's how come Lennie hasn't been forcibly removed from the freshly laundered pile. I feel sorry for her sneezing little self. She knows that and is playing me.

It's going to be a long, long day.