Dead. Dead, dead, deadski.

Well, I have broken Blogger again.  :-)  I can’t get the page to load, or anything.  And so I have no way to know if this ever posts, but since it isn’t all that interesting anyway, nobigdeal.  

Sooner or later, the Blogger people are going to wonder why I keep breaking their website.  Sigh.

I don’t know…for the glory?  ;-)

We had another working meeting today, and Sophie (it seemed to me) was going out of her way to talk to me and be nice.  I was late because I first got stuck in traffic, and then had to beat up a little old lady and steal her parking spot, and TPTB kept asking me if I was ok, and so forth.  I don’t think that I cover the whole group thing nearly enough for there to be any divining of group dynamics going on, so let me just give my two cents’ worth of take on it:  I think that what happened is that TPTB talked to me, and then yapped about our conversation to Sophie, because she has no filter for when someone is a dingbat, and therefore believes Sophie to be the greatest invention since sliced bread.  Why?  Because Sophie says she is.  Repeatedly.  To anything that will stand still long enough to listen, including inanimate objects.  And then, in Friday’s work meeting, Sophie was getting a little antsy because everyone was paying attention to Fluffer, and so, to get the spotlight back on Sophie, she spouted off with the first thing that popped into her tiny brain—my stuff.  I would bet that one of them then mentioned it to TPTB; probably it was Fluffer, ‘cos Fluffer did not get it, and would never admit that to anyone but TPTB (or ask questions for clarification that weren’t antagonistic).  At which point I think TPTB might have started to consider…I don’t know what, but I think she might have said something to Sophie.  I may be reading too much into Sophie’s actions today, but they seemed unusual enough to me that I am concocting *some* explanation for them.  Well, that and TPTB asking me twenty times if I was ok.  Maybe she does know that I was upset.  I just don’t know.  The truth is that I am not still ragingly upset anymore; I am much calmer than I was on Friday.  And I hate trying to figure out what is going on in people’s minds like this; it very much sets me on edge.

And, for what it is worth, Meg thinks I should have cut free from this a long time ago, just like I thought she would.  Her comments basically amounted to a, “What in the hell did you expect; it’s not as if this person hasn’t already told you all about herself.”  Meg is talking about the Octopus fiasco.  And she is right.  And I haven’t for a few stupid reasons, all of which have to do with fear, wishing things were different, being completely co-dependent in many ways, wanting the opportunities I am getting (sort-of) and…just being scared.  And not knowing what to do, really.  

But I will cope.  Let’s move on.

I sicced Son-Friend on my car problems, and as a result I have an appointment to talk to someone tomorrow at my adopted dealership.  I guess we will see.  The first thing that I want to ask them is why this couldn’t have come about from *my* call.  Hmmm.  

I have reached my maximum for tolerating the kitten situation at Eviljob, and this comes at a very bad time.  I can’t do anything until I am done with all the things I have due, but I am going to have to try again to catch them myself.  I don’t know how I am going to do it, but I guess I will think of something.  I can’t stand seeing them like this anymore.  I just can’t do it.  I guess that if I still can’t catch them after devoting a few hours to it, I need to just let it go and just keep feeding them.  :-\  I cannot let this tear me up the same way Squooshable’s litter did.  Now, I don’t know how I am going to manage that, but…

And now I am going to sleep.  Yay.