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𝕺𝖓𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖉's avatar

So, my mostly dormant conscience has been niggling at me, and I am here to try to Do Better.

I've had a Wonker, whose username is new to me, on more than one occasion chide me voraciously for something I've said here in the non-comments section. I have been the intended recipient of outrage for misogyny, political incorrectness, honestly-I-don't-know-what-all. I have non-responded to the non-comments and was frankly amused at the level of miff that was achieved by Our Young Wonker, "especially in light of this being a woman-owned" mommyblog.

But I have been reflecting. I realized that this person, if as new as I suspect, does not have access to the Archives that I hope still exist somewhere out in the ether, does not understand that some of these conversations have been taking place over a decade or longer, does not know that we have deep roots here. She (going out on a limb here) hasn't been here when we've cried over one another's dying pets or dying parents, when we've said goodbye to longWonkers, does not know that "ya filthy fuckaducks" is code for "I value what we have here more than I can comfortably express."

And why should (presumed) she? She's a Newbie. She is exactly why we came over to Substack and went through all the growing pains, so that Rebecca and the rest don't have to sew up broken shoelaces and turn paper cups inside out to reuse. Of course she's not going to know the inside jokes, or that mockery is our love language, or that when there is Need, we rally around one another without hesitation, because that's precisely what being a Newbie means. Sometimes puppies poop on the rug. Sometimes kittens get trapped in the linen closet. When that happens, we help, we don't sweep our skirts away and look down our noses at them.

Also, Rebecca doesn't need any more shit. At this time, anyway.

My fucking conscience informs me that I wasn't being kind or welcoming to someone whose intent was, after all, to protect and defend this Sacred Space. Instead, I laughed up my sleeve and did not respond. Not Nice. So this is me making myself accountable to the rest of you. I can do better. If I have to. I guess.  

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𝕺𝖓𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖉's avatar

Today is Caturday, of course, and also the day designated for washing sheets and towels. When I have catterly assistance stripping the bed, it takes much longer, and is much more fun.

If I forget that it's laundry day and start to make the bed, Máebh reminds me that I am forgetting by deliberately obstructing the bedmaking process and jumping on the poofs of air under the sheets, and then I say, "Oh, I remember now," and begin to unmake the bed. With help, of course.

How does she know? I do not know, but it's happened enough that I cannot dismiss it as coincidence. Not, obviously, "Today is Saturday, therefore . . . ", but perhaps, "On the day you don't get up and get ready to leave, we do this . . ." Which is still a lot. And good that one of us remembers.

That is all.

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