Dear Dysfunctional Roommate

First, I hope you don't read my blog.  Second, let me be frank.  We haven't known each other long, since you only moved in a month ago and have generally been gone as your life seems to fall apart in a new away every day.  I sympathize, empathize as much as I am able, even though at least half of this seems to be self-created.  However, your indecision, impulsive decisions, deciding that you're moving out, that you're not moving out, that you're moving out this week, or that you're moving out next month is affecting more than just yourself.  And I don't just mean Randy, our other roommate/landlord, who is listing and unlisting your possibly empty bedroom.

I'm talking about your cat.  Your dear, sweet, annoying cat you have for some reason named Muumu.  Last week, when you didn't come home for three days, I texted you to ask if you were ok.  You asked me to feed your cat.  That's the only time you've mentioned it, despite being gone five out of the last seven days, again.  So I continue to feed your cat.  I even bought more cat food when you ran out.  I pet your cat, and I chase it off the furniture and counters for you.

Let me make myself clear: I do this not because I am thrilled to have a cat in my house.  I do this because there is a cat in my house, its owner is neglecting it, and I'm not coldhearted enough to let an animal suffer from neglect in my own home.  I am growing increasingly worried.  I'm worried that the longer this goes on, the less comfortable I get with the idea of Muumu being ok with you when you do finally move out.  Not only that, but you have mentioned giving her away once or twice.  Basically, I am increasingly convinced that you are unable to adequately care for your cat.  Your dear, sweet, annoying cat that is the most talkative damn cat I've ever met.

I'm worried that since I am already taking care of your cat, loving your cat for you, and apparently more concerned for your cat than you are, I would be the natural choice to take care of your cat.  But I do not want your cat.  There are plenty of reasons that I got a tortoise instead of a cat.  The biggest is that I'm gone a lot, and I don't think my lifestyle is stable enough for one.  But apparently, neither are you.

So please, I implore you, come home, stabilize yourself, and take care of Muumu.  Because if you're gone another week, I'm going to have to learn how to clean out a litter box.

Miss E.

Gripe

This morning I got the go ahead from my administration to start building a debate program.  So the first thing I did was look up the cost of membership for our school in the National Forensic League.  There's a junior league for middle school and the high school league for grades 9-12.  However, I teach at a junior high, with grades 7-9.  Should I sign up for a junior league membership or a high school league one?

So I called the NFL headquarters in Wisconsin to ask.  Do you know what they told me I needed to do?  Buy both.  The junior league membership is $35 a year, and the senior membership is $99 a year.  To buy both means I would need to convince my administration to fork over $134 a year, just to make the school an NFL member.  That would not include the fact that they're willing to let me create more classes (meaning I'll be able to teach fewer English classes), talk about tournament fees, etc.  

Grrrr.  $134 just to have my three grades of students get memberships. One $99 membership could get four grades at a high school.  

Sigh.