Oh, noooooo!!!!!!!

Ok... I turned a what was assigned as a 6-pg paper into a 20-pg paper because they invented the word "overkill" just for me. This puts the class with my advisor to bed. Woof, baby! Now I have just one more thing to hand in for my other class, and then this term is officially *over*! The other prof (the one I'm still owing) just went ahead and submitted a grade, though. It's an A or B, I'm sure (and I'd bet on A, but I don't want to count my chickens, as it were), but I'm afraid to look. :-) I normally don't get Bs, for the most part. I mean, I will if there's extenuating circumstances like a suck-ass prof or the fiasco that occurred this term, or if I just don't give a damn, but in general, no.

Which is different from how I used to be; I used to not care at all. But that's ok. Now I still don't care really, but I end up with better grades. Go figure. But I guess one factor in that is that, on the graduate level, it's pretty much A, B, Fail. Those are the choices. I mean, most programs won't let you get more than two or three Cs, and technically a C is thought of as "failing". Some programs, like Mathematics, Physics, Engineering, Comp Sci, are sometimes more lenient, but you usually end up talking to HoD, or something similar.

Butsoanyway.

Squooshable barfed today. Of course that sent me into a panic. I think it was from overeating, which Squooshables seem to do a lot, but still...it scared me. I probably should get with the Pet Rescue people and turn him over to them. I mean, I can't do right by him. Hell...I can barely do right by myself and the people and cats I already have. That is very depressing, but I guess it'll make my oldest cat happy. Tonight my oldest walked up to me, glared, flicked his tail, and said, "It doesn't even have a tail, Babe. Put it back." And stalked off.

Sigh. Poor Squooshable. I don't know what to do.

Had a marathon meeting today at Supidjob, the not-Eviljob job. Well, I didn't get New Guy; I ended up with no beneath-me help, and co-ing up with RCG. Oy, vey. Just what I need. I don't mind working with him; he's cute and smart and on top of things. The problem is the cute. It's hard to be all innovative and go-getting and business-like when you're mentally running around, stamping out the "geez, I could so totally do you right now!" thoughts like they're little brushfires. Plus, screw it--I need a Stepnfetchit. Eviljob has trained me against being my own Stepnfetchit...I've been spoilt.

This is my "I'm an ideas girl" whine. It's copyrighted.

Sigh.

But in a way, it's ok. Maybe together we'll be more productive. At least I've gotten a productive one; things could be worse.

Squooshable is against my leg. :-) I think I might let him sleep with me. We'll see. I probably shouldn't until I find out if he has FeLV or something, though. He could wander off while I'm asleep, and one of my cats might deck him, and get it too or something.

Speaking of which, Puff's ashes were back today. I couldn't go pick them up because I was in Marathon Meeting. One of the postmortem tests the vet should have back for me to pick up is the Feline Infectious Peritonitis test, which I'm half-convinced will come back positive. The symptomology sounds very similar to what happened to Puff. I think she might have had the less-symptomatic one, I think it's the "dry" one.

On second thought, maybe I should follow common sense preventative measures and put Squooshable up for the night in the bathroom. :-\ I just can't stand to lose another cat. Not right now.

Oh...I went off on a tangent... I think RCG's been poisoned by Sophie though; he didn't seem any too thrilled to have me. Eh. The Truth shall set me free. :-) I'm unconcerned. Let her do her worst. Talking shit about me is so very Third Grade.

Okay; on to the next: I did make up with a lot of people. :-) My immediate family is, well...different. Mom, the little I've been able to talk to her before and since she left, is just Mom. She's as dotty as they come. I guess I can either cope with that, or not. I choose to cope.

My brother is a unique one too. I'm not sure we'll ever have a really good relationship, exactly. We're just very different people. And his wife is such a clone, but we'll not go there. He and my father have definite ideas about how women should be and behave, and I have never ever fit that mould. And I don't agree with everything he is and does, in return. I resent like hell having to worry about him over things that are preventable, things that he only got into because of his enormous ego. He has to "best" everyone. Every single fricking person around. But that's just like my father, too. So in a way, the two of them are in a lifelong pissing contest with each other. I'll grumble more about it later in detail. I'm still trying to not be angry about it, so it's going to have to sit and wait until I can be dispassionate(er) about it.

Dispassionater is too so a word. Maybe.

Meg likes me. She's more like me than either my mother or father, but enough like my father that she doesn't fuck up as often as I do, and she is for this reason more accomplished in life than I--at this point. I'll catch up eventually. And we for the most part get along, at least now. I just have to remember that when things get rough, I can't just dump on her or jettison her. And I can't get as selfish as I have been.

Of course, I never even received an acknowledgement from my advisor over my apology. Feh.

Oh, well. Can't have everything.

Meg's still Away, and says she'll be back on Monday. She's got to start the term, and has to prep, so she can't really stay any longer if it's being unproductive, and I guess she feels she's being unproductive there. She hasn't gotten her chip into one of the big games yet, and she's frustrated and getting broker. She's not resenting the money laid out, but she just feels she's not seeing the return on it that she wants in the amount of tme she wants it in. I can kind of understand that, thought I'm more inclined to engage in fruitless pursuits than she is, so if I were her, I'd hang in there. But that's my major malfunction, not hers.

Sigh. I'd better get to sleep if I want to get anything done tomorrow. :-\