Peggy (aka maggyruth, or me)- Well, that would be me. Duh. I’m in my thirties, working on educating myself into a new career (current GPA non-withstanding.) I’m a Type A personality that wishes she was on the OTHER end of Type A (you know, the overly neat side?) Somehow, I got stuck on the procrastinating, cluttered (only at home), push-me-a-bit-and-I’ll-tip-into-hording side (because anyone who has ever been a medical coder knows that Type A actually codes to Obsessive Compulsive in the DSM.) I was in the Health Information field for 12 years, until I realized that what I was doing made me want to poke my eyes out with a sharp stick, and I didn’t care enough about building Electronic Health Records to further myself in the field. Paper charts worked fine for me. Paper is a renewable resource, after all.
A long time ago (read: 10th grade) my English teacher (the ever sexist Mr. Becker) told me I was a good writer. I hated writing. I still don’t love it now…but that’s only if it’s something I HAVE to do (ie, for classes.) I love it when it’s for my own devices. Maybe someday I’ll write a book, but it won’t be because someone else is making me. Because that’s how I roll.
I live with:
The Boy-My partner, not my son. When he and I were dating, this is how I referred to him when talking about him to my friends. Many of them didn’t know what his name was, even after we got engaged. Oops.
He remains The Boy because, though he is every bit a man, he prefers anonymity when it comes to the interwebs. On very rare occasions you might see a picture of him, but those are few and far between, and normally don’t show his face. I mean, the man doesn’t even have a FaceBook account. He is a red head, from the South, and way too smart for his own good (and my sanity some days…)
Little Kitty (aka BaBé or Little Bit)-the eldest of two furbabies. A tortise shell DSH cat (because it would be cruel to name a dog something with the word “Kitty” in it) who is about 15 years old and lives up to her name. Seriously. She weighs about 5.5 pounds and, when frightened with curl up into a ball the size of a croquet ball. However, when sleeping, she becomes Gigantor and can stretch herself to what feels like 6 feet long. We have a king size bed and she takes up half. She also sounds like a lawn mower that can’t start…we think it’s because she was the runt and her larynx was defective due to said runtiness.
Sweet Tea (aka Tubby or Pain in the Ass)-The younger furbaby. Also a tortie and DSH, though you wouldn’t know it during shedding season. Despite being younger, she is the alpha cat, but only when it comes to Little Kitty. If there is another animal around (ie, a dog), she is a turns tail like a scared little woodland creature. She’s about double Little Kitty’s size, mainly because she manages to push Little Kitty out of the way during lunch time. Oh, and she likes to steal treats. When she’s sleeping, her density increases similar to Little Kitty’s increase in length. Trying to move her is like trying to move a collapsed building off your chest with a broken arm.
You might also see mentioned:
Pimento Loaf– This is what we were calling the baby that we lost. It was too early to know if it was a boy or girl, and my friend refused to let me call it “Parasite,” despite the fact that it almost killed me. Symbiotic relationship my ass.