Let’s talk about Tebow! Ha. Just kidding. I have zero interest in talking about some dude (with his amazing Roman god profile), who has an astonishing ability to drop to one knee whenever a camera suddenly swings his way. I did sit with CSP yesterday watching some football game while babysitting the sweetest little Siamese cat, Cricket. Sweet, that is, until you try to trim her nails. She’ll go straight to slitting your wrists, as CSP can attest to. As punishment, Cricket is being made to snuggle against me and watch World’s Strictest Parents. That’ll teach her.
Today was an unpleasant jolt back to reality. I’ve been on vacation. I had a wonderful time playing in San Francisco with Frijole and Fink-Nottle for a week, then spent a fantastic three days making out with CSP. It’s important that all of you know that.
The day I left for San Fran, the heat went out of my place, which wasn’t a huge deal since the weather was gorgeous in Austin while I was away (and damp and cold in SF). ET is holidaying at the ex’s, so there was no worry about his little cold-blooded self getting too chilly. When I got back I just used CSP as a blanket (heh heh). Of course all the good times had to end, and I was forced to get the repair guys out today. Which meant I had to leave work two hours early, and watch some very friendly but overweight dudes squeeze themselves in to the attic. They first had to witness the disgusting vomit that The Bear kindly left on my bed. One guy was totally puking in his hand as I was clearing out my closet so they could access the attic entrance. Thanks, dude, for judging me.
Ends up that there was a blown capacitor, and chances are it has been dying all summer. My electric-bill problems may be somewhat alleviated now. Maybe. I’m a bit miffed that I have gas, but my HVAC is electric, but I love my little cement–block home, so I don’t have any plans to move when my lease is up at the end of March. If I wasn’t so cheap, I’d totally crank that heat up to 85, and sit around pantsless tonight.
At work I had to deal with the mess Twit had made over the past seven work days. She came over to my desk, and blinked at me with her rodent eyes, and tried to explain why she was unable to open a document and do a “save as.” Life is very hard, very very hard. She’ll happily let you know how hard her life is. You’ll have to sit through a long jeremiad about her sad, pathetic life, and how we should all just be grateful that she comes to work, never mind the fact that she can’t actually work when at work. That is not the point! She’s at work, is that not good enough? Focus!
As to that puke on my bed, my handsome Bear has lymphoma of the kidneys and other internal organs. He’s not immediately dying, but he’s on the steep decline. I was prepared for the vet to tell me it was kidney failure, and he is in kidney failure, I just didn’t think it would be because of cancer.
Friday was the two-year anniversary of the Orange Lover’s death, and Whoopis just over a month ago. I’m completely devastated at the idea of losing a third cat in less than three years. There is hope that The Bear will respond well to a special canned-food diet (and that he gets to eat such tasty vittles pisses the kittens off to no end), but we won’t know until a couple months have passed to compare his blood-work results. I’m not going to put him through any extraordinary measures. It’s just not right for him. I cannot be argued out of this decision. What I did for the Orange Lover and Whoopis isn’t right for him. My plan is to spoil him until it is time to put him to sleep (or please, pretty damn please, he goes in his own sleep).
I did explain to the heating repair guys that the puke on the bed was due to The Bear having lymphoma. Sympathy points for the win!
Enough sadness. Enjoy some jellyfish from the California Academy of Sciences.
Then there are the haikubes that proved I am as immature as always, and probably need more adult supervision.
Saturday Clementine sat around being a sexually ambiguous hipster.
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