Everything that happened today :-)

Yii…I haven’t checked my “main” email in months, ‘cos I have been too busy.  It is all either personal mail, or spam (heavy on the spam), which is not unusual, since I have had the address forever.  But I sent out Thanksgiving cards from BlueMountain, and that is the address I have registered with them.  I just checked that box, and someone I play trivia with (live) sent a really sweet email…on 25 November.  

Ok, I feel like a major creep now.  

And I am so *very* deleting *everything* from the ASPCA and HSUS…and all the other animal people.  Today I got a record *two* rejections…everyone is “too busy”.  Well, screw you, too.  I am *so* over you bunny-hugging assbuckets.

I spent (as usual) the morning at Eviljob.  I came early so that I could feed the kittens, and of course they scattered.  But I did count three plus Mom.  So when I left, I went to check on them again and slowly walked up, which usually manages to get me a foot or two closer.  The grey tuxedo cat looked to me like he was breathing a little quickly, though I couldn’t discern if it was from illness, or watching me. He (or she) ate, but I went to get them fresh water, just in case.  I put down a bowl of water, and the grey kitten drank (a lot) from it, and then lit into the four cans of Iams wet food I had brought to supplement the dry Iams kitten chow, in case the little guy was dehydrated, or something.  So I *saw* him (or her) drink and eat.  Dr Vet’s rule of thumb is that if the cat is drinking and eating, then things are not all that bad, at least yet.  And they ate a *lot*.  

When I fed them, Nice Cat came over.  He is an orangyish cat, and he is really very sweet.  He will now let me pet and scratch him, but picking him up is a no-no.  Nice Cat wanted some of the wet food, so I gave him some.  He is such a nice cat that he didn’t bother the Momcat or kittens at all; he just stood off to the side, turning and weaving, to show me what a Nice Cat he is.  Nice Cat has been at Eviljob for a while—like a few years—and he looks pretty good, although unaltered.  Nice Cat I do not think I could do anything with other than take home…he is too old to be adopted, I think.  

So I think that the grey tuxedo kitten is mostly ok, but I have to do something.  I really do.  So as I head home to clean out my car, I call everyone in the universe.  You say I didn’t call you?  Check your messages.  I called EVERY FREAKING PERSON IN THE UNIVERSE to try to round up some help here.  And as I worked, I *kept* calling.  God, am I pesky.  And I also had to call my doctor, ‘cos they kept saying the other doctor hadn’t faxed over my crap yet, and the other office kept saying that they had, then finally decided that they hadn’t and couldn’t, ‘cos of HIPAA.  Oh, hell.  So I have to pick them up myself tomorrow, but that is ok, because it gives me a chance to return something I bought and thought would be a good present, but it won’t, and I need to try harder.  And I’m going to let my fingers take a breath now.  Gasp.

Butsoanyway.  

I had to clean out my car ‘cos Son-Friend, obnoxious dillweed that he is, has managed to get a meeting for me at my adopted dealership to discuss The Car Thing.  And, well…I have a lot of things in my car.  It is all Stuff I Need, and I know where it all is, but (1) if they are going to fix the stupid thing, then they are eventually going to need to take it for a few days anyway, and (2) there are a few things in there that I have been needing to get out, but haven’t got around to it all semester, and I want to take care of all that before some stranger starts pawing through all my stuff today.  I have an expanding file for *everything*…one for DURR, one for the RCMP, two for my other projects, one for our other group, one for a side thing I am doing but haven’t told anyone about yet, and so on.  And then there’s the stuff on the passenger seat that *needs* to be filed in the folders, but I haven’t done it yet ‘cos, well, I know where it is already.  :-)   It is in my passenger seat.

Some stuff I just toss…long overduedly.  Like the two small bags of potato chips I have been carrying around, meaning to feed a certain cute little squirrel with, but which I always forget to take *out* of my car, which is a Key Step in feeding this particular squirrel.  So they go.  And I stack up all my cds, and decide to take The Leap and get a cd case.  I haven’t done it yet, but I eventually will.  I can’t stand to hunt for another cd anymore, ‘cos I have mis-filed it into another case out of convenience.  Now I don’t know what I am going to do in reality, ‘cos what I have in my car filled a small box, and isn’t even one-tenth of my actual collection, and I rotate them out all the time.  And I know I would be better off with an mp3 player in my situation, but (1) I would have to buy it for me, and I don’t want to spend the money right now; (2) what in the hell would I do with all of my cds? (3) As if I had time to take on any more projects.  No.  Nope.  Nyet.  No more projects allowed.  So I will do something, but…I will deal with it later.  I just love that word.  :-)  Later.  

Butsoanyway.

I throw caution to the wind and rid myself of every receipt in the car.  I constantly delude myself into thinking that, someday, I will sit down and get all organised and start keeping a ledger again and do things like keep up with my investments and maybe file my taxes on time, but I am lying.  I will never do that.  The only possible way that I would ever do that is if I left Eviljob and had to keep to a strict budget.  And even then, when I have lived like that I am not very diligent about it.  No, I have never bounced anything—I am the opposite way—I will think that I have no money when I do.  When I buy something, I round it up to whatever is easiest, either a five- or ten-dollar increment.  Believe it or not, that adds up over time.  And so what I am really saying here is that sitting around starving to death is preferable to adding and subtracting in Ancodialand.  

I can do calculus, but I can’t balance a freaking check book.  Now how pathetic is that?

Butsoanyway.

So I get it cleaned out, and Harry, The Neighbour-‘Round-The Corner’s cat helps me.  Harry damn near got himself locked up in a trunk when he decided to help himself to the Eviljob cats’ food that I keep in there.  He should thank his graces that he is big, fat, fluffy, and sticks his butt up when he eats, else he’d be gorging himself in a locked car on a dealer’s lot right now.  

Butsoanyway.

So I get to the dealership, but I am about fifteen minutes late (cope), and when I pull in, S-F and the Service Manager are standing out there, waiting for me.  It turns out that S-F has been there for almost half an hour chatting up the Service Manager, who apparently now thinks that I am a real kook.  S-F tells people things like how I cried when I turned in my old car last year, that I drive like an old lady (I do NOT!), that I do not know how to drive an automatic (yes, he did so say that), and so forth.  I can just *tell* by the way Mr Manager is looking at me that S-F has been laying it on.  Dork.  

So we go in and talk about everything that is wrong with my car…which is actually a lot.  My airbag is broken or something, but the dealership that I bought it from wouldn’t fix it, my driver’s side window sometimes doesn’t lower (and the only thing that cures it is driving onto the dealership lot and calling over a service technician!), this clutch thing, and the fact that I do not trust my car anymore.  And so we talk about things for an hour, and they go look at the car, and all of that stuff.  And S-F makes little comments the whole way through about me, which really annoys me, but I am trying to be pleasant, plus I do not feel like following what he and the Service Manager are saying we are doing.  I have to be in the mood to deal with things like this, and I just wasn’t; I just perk up and defend myself when I need to.  And when S-F leaves for a few minutes, and the Service Manager asks if that is my boyfriend, or husband, or…?, I just answer, “OHELLNO!”  

Jesus Christ on a Popsicle stick…you *must* be joking.  You think a brick fell on my head, or something?  

And, by the end of this meeting, S-F gets them to negotiate down on my clutch, and give me some kind of warranty that I will be paying for when I pay for the clutch, and they will replace the airbag in my car as well as the door motor for the window, and go over the car and tell me what else it needs and if it is major, we can negotiate that later.  And then I totally paid for not paying attention when all of a sudden, they up and take my car keys.  I may sound dumb, but I didn’t realise we were talking about doing this *right now*!  Errr…no!  I have to get to work tomorrow, and then play courier ‘twixt my doctors, and go do other things, and there is no one I can borrow a car from, no one who can give me a ride!  No, I explain, we are going to have to do this *later*, like tomorrow afternoon.

And S-F looks at me as if I am a moron, and says, “Well, you’re shit out of luck, and I can’t take you home, so you will have to walk or hitch from here!”  I swear.  And I knew he was kidding, but I did not get the joke; to me, this wasn’t funny at all!  And then the Service Manager says that at first he was going to leave me stranded there, but I grew on him.  Yeah…I have that effect on people.  And S-F explains that they are giving me a loaner car—a 2006 Mustang.  

Somehow I missed that part of the conversation.  

So we take the chit for the car over to the rental part and S-F starts making goo-goo faces at some kid in the waiting room to the point that I just went ahead and started the paperwork and stuff myself.  So I go out to get everything I need out of my car, and I have also made a pile of stuff about heart health that I gathered for S-F whilst waiting to see if Mummers was dead or not back in October, and had forgotten to give to him.  And then he comes out with the kid he was making googly-faces at, and I realise that it’s Tyler, S-F’s girlfriend’s daughter’s kid from the one night stand with the biker.  Bleah.  

Though it isn’t the kid’s fault that his mother is a freak, and I am not saying that it is…it is just bleah.  S-F explains that the lady he was playing with was waiting for her car and asked if she could watch him.  :-)  Cute.  He actually isn’t a bad kid.  

Butsoanyway.

So S-F wants to skip trivia (‘cos he is sick, I forgot to mention that) and just go get something to eat and go home.  So that is what we do; I figure that I owe him dinner, at least.  So we go eat, and Tyler throws food, and I give S-F dirty looks.  Well, I am still ticked off over being made to sound like a flake, which I am not.  

Then S-F wants to go buy a crèche for G-F of S-F, and asks me to go with him.  Tonight is the first night that it has started getting kind of windy and cold, and truthfully, I am worried about the kittens.  I was going to go home and bring them a blanket or something.  So I go with S-F to buy a crèche at a warehouse store that is midway between Eviljob and my house, and I buy a towel there that is “Patriot Blue”, which I think is appropriate for kittens who were born under the flag that sits out in front of Eviljob.  Before Momcat moved them, that courtyard area used to be the Kitty Enclave.  And as we are leaving, S-F (from whom I had walked away to buy the towel as he was deciding between getting the crèche G-F wanted originally or a fibre-optic doodad that he thought she would like more) asked me if I had bought the towel.  No, I said—I stole it; I’m just a hoopy frood like that.  He knew I was kidding, but as I swiped a box from the bin on the way out, he said that he gave up, and had to know what I was doing, so I told him.  And he wanted me to take the towel back and use a tarp-thingy he had in his trunk, but I told him that I didn’t think that would be as warm as the towel.  Plus, if I went all the way home, got a blanket or towel that I already had, and then drove all the way back to Eviljob and then all the way back home, I would be wasting time and gas—it is easier to do it this way.  Plus, the towel was only $6.  

So we parted, and I got to Eviljob.  I saw Momcat and one of the black-and-white tuxedo Squooshables.  I looked around, but did not see the other two.  So I stuck the box with the towel in it as far under the hedges as I could manage (with Momcat hissing and spitting at me the whole time for daring to invade her home), gave them some more food, and waited a few minutes.  When no one peeked out, I figured they weren’t going to either come out or come back until I went away, ‘cos I freaked them out by going into their safe spot, so I made sure they still had water, and left.  

So I am happy about the car and everything, but upset about the kittens.  I just do not know what to do any more.  How can I catch them?  Two calls back that I got today both told me that they were unable to help, and to call Animal Services.  Animal Services will just catch them and put them to sleep because they are too unfriendly to adopt.  So what do I do?  I do not think that I can catch them, but I am going to try again.  I will try tomorrow and Thursday, and Friday if I can.  But if I fail again, what do I do?  Leave them there, or call Animal Services?  Which is kinder?  Or right?  

I just do not know.

And, according to George Noory, our government is running an “exchange program” with aliens, whereby they trade military personnel for aliens.  Hmmph.  Figures.  Between 1965 and 1978, twelve Americans were traded for twelve aliens from Zeta Reticuli.

I heard that.  I am not ever.  I don’t even know where Zeta Reticuli *is*.  So bite me.