Greetings from Dallas-Fort Worth, the first stop on my Pants on Fire tour!
People always ask me, “Don’t you get tired of traveling all the time?” but in this case I’m actually relieved to be back on the road because things were getting a little hinky back in Key West.
That’s because one of the toilets exploded in the barnhouse we bought in Indiana (seriously—don’t ask) and He Who Shall Not Be Named In This Blog left to go try to salvage the situation, leaving me home alone with his cat, Slutty McSlut-A-Slut, for the first time.
Things quickly descended into a Lord-of-the-Flies-type situation (and it became clear I was Piggy), and frankly I was delighted when HWSNBNITB came home the night before last and I was able to get the heck out of there, leaving the cat care to him.
I honestly don’t know why Slutty thought it was necessary to a) bring me a gift of a live bird (or sometimes a lizard) every morning, or b) hold this gift captive for me on the dining room carpet at the bottom of the stairs until I came down the stairs, groggy and looking for caffeine. She has never done this to HWSNBNITB and he is her one true love, so why did I end being the recipient of this odd token of her affection? Did she think I was going to stop feeding her if she didn’t show me how useful she could be around the house?
Furthermore, upon seeing me every morning, she would LET THE (completely unharmed) BIRD (or lizard) GO. INSIDE THE HOUSE. WHERE IT WOULD RUN OR FLY TO THE NEAREST PLACE OF SAFETY. Since I am neither a) a cat, and b) skilled at catching birds or lizards, I had no choice but to let her CATCH THE BIRD or LIZARD again (this would sometimes take hours), then take it away from her before she could hurt it (which meant I had to sit and watch her stalk it. For hours), and then let it go outside in our neighbor’s yard, behind the fence, where Slutty could not find it and where it would lay in a dazed stupor until it recovered enough to fly or slink away, hopefully to warn its bird or lizard friends not to come anywhere near our yard again, or face bizarre 24 like seizure, interrogation, and then eventual emancipation.
Meanwhile, Slutty, inside the house, would look for her lost prize. That’s right: She is absolutely so dumb that even though she saw me pick up her gift to me and go outside with it, she somehow thought it was still inside. I would come inside to find her on top of the refrigerator, looking for her lizard pal, going, “Come on. I know it’s in here somehow. Let’s get it!”
So that was what I went through every morning (before tea) while HWSNBNITB was away (I would like to mention that Slutty completely reverted back to her normal Slutty behavior the minute he came home, rolling around on her back and acting as if the idea of bringing a live bird or lizard into the house had never occurred to her. In fact, HWSNBNITB didn’t even believe me about it. He went, “She’s too stupid to catch a bird.” And of course I didn’t have the feathers anymore to show him, because I’d cleaned them all up).
Here is a photo of Slutty acting like she never brought a bird or lizard through the cat door into the house to present to me at the bottom of the stairs:
“What? Me? Hold a small animal captive until Meg comes downstairs? As if.”
So the prospect of a) room service, and b) no cats is really appealing to me right now.
Anyway, please come see me in Dallas-Fort Worth (but only come if you pre-reserved tickets because the event is supposedly sold out) and don’t forget to watch me tomorrow (Tuesday) morning on WFAA’s Good Morning Texas (ABC) between approximately 9-9:30, barring any world or national catastrophes, in which case I will be bumped for them.
I’m so glad to be back on tour.
Here are some important book signing tips in case you’ve forgotten:
Some tips for Writers at a Book Signing (I maintain my stance on spirit guides and authors whose characters “talk” to them).
Some tips for Readers at a Book Signing (although honestly I don’t care how many books you bring from home, you should call the bookstore ahead of time and see what their policy is on this, because of them do have their own guidelines.
And of course my publisher would like if you would actually buy the book for which I’m currently touring, which is Pants on Fire, in case you forgot).
More later.
Much love,
Meg
