Stress-free Living in the South

Man, I haven't had a stress level this low since I can remember. I think that this is at least partially due to the relaxed Southern mentality that permeates my new world. (Plus being on a break from school.)

Life here is similar to being in laid-back Seattle, only without any pretentiousness. People here seem to treat each other with an equal level of respect and friendliness, no matter your social status. And this is coming from a near-Buckhead resident, where Bentleys and Ferraris are not a rare sight on the road.

So it's nice to have an easy-going life for a change. My job (albeit low-paying) is not demanding or full of the usual political B.S. that I'm so accustomed to in Corporate America. That's the advantage of working for a small start-up company. The risk for failure may be high, but the work has a certain sense of intrigue. And motivation is a natural component when you are an integral part of the start-up equation—your individual performance is critical, and your contributions can directly impact the company's success or failure.

The kitties are happy here, and so am I.

Jelly is the biggest whiner I know (besides myself)! Of course, that adorable face is hard to resist. Today is Sunday, and Jelly would not let me sleep past 7:30. She kept getting up in the bed to awaken me. I'd roll over to turn away from her and feign sleep. She would then proceed to stand up on me and push on my back with both her front paws. Repeatedly. And while squeaking loudly and with an increasingly whiney tone—like a kid on the candy aisle in the grocery store. She wanted a belly rub and wasn't going to stop pushing on me until I complied.

I finally gave in and rolled over. Jelly is so funny. She's the first cat I've met who likes to "spoon" in bed. She has recently developed this new routine, which plays itself out before I fall asleep, while I'm asleep, and again early in the morning when I'm trying to stay asleep. She jumps up on the nightstand, then over to the bed. If I'm on my right side, facing the nightstand, she plops down up against my front, stretches out, exposes her belly, and rubs the back of her head on my chin.

I'll start rubbing her belly. She'll start purring. But the problem is that the next automatic reaction on her part is to start licking. Jelly is a big licker. Whenever you rub her belly, she has to lick whatever object is closest to her, whether it be the hand of her masseuse, or Baby, or a pillow, or her own furry self.

Lick, lick, lick. I can't get her to stop! It's OK during the day, but at night it's kinda hard to fall back sleep with this spooning kitty licking my face or arm with that rough cat tongue. Last night (probably around midnight) I recall informing her, "I'm not in need of a microdermabrasion treatment at this time, Jelly," as she scratched my face with her motorized tongue.

She is a strange one, indeed. Sir Walter Scott was right: "Cats are mysterious kind of folk."