Oh, am I going to have to make this quick. I am playing trivia, and when it is over in an hour, I am going to BED. I have to get up extra-early to run around with Meg before she leaves on Thursday for aroundabout ten days to finish visiting friends, some relatives, and a pit-stop for gambling. She’s taking Mummers with her for most of it, so I will be in the doldrums holiday-wise for a few days here. I want to go, but I cannot; I have way too much to do here, and even if I promised to work on the road I wouldn’t have enough time. Plus, I am still sick. But a lot has happened, so…here goes:
1) I am STILL sick. I have seven days of antibiotics left, and those things are going to *kill* me. Gah! And I just can’t stop coughing! Well, I can when I drink half a bottle of Robitussin followed by a two-to-four tablespoon Hycodan chaser…
Though I am trying to back off The Juice. No, rilly—I am cutting it with Robitussin as much as I can and still not bring with me the railing, hacking sounds of a TB ward everywhere I go. Well, and at night, when I need to sleep. Diphenhydramine has *nothing* on good old-fashioned opiates, though I keep sticking the two together in my tum to see if maybe Diphenhydramine could pick up a tip or two. Today is Day Seven of my experimentation in the Post-Ingestion Learning Capacities of Pharmaceutical Agents.
I’ll keep you posted.
2) Chrissy’s Issues. Oh, here we go. Okay—Lisa is GONE. As in like disappeared. Lisa was the one who was running Happy Hills Farms, and she said it was hers—her 503c non-profit thingy-thing. Well, it wasn’t. Lise started off as a helper to some other lady who founded Happy Hills, and when that lady moved to some other state, Lise was supposed to just finish adopting out the animals and then wrap everything up and shut down. Well, she didn’t. Lise’s been running business as usual, taking donations, and blah, blah, blah. This all blew up about a month ago—the *real* Happy Hills lady went to go start up her 503c (or whatever it is), and contacted Lise to get her van and stuff back. So Lise stopped answering her phone. Then Lise offered to sell the Happy Hills van to Chrissy for 8k in cash (it is only a couple of years old, and worth way-more than that) ‘cos Lise told Chrissy that she’d decided to get out of the business. So Chrissy borrowed most of the 8k and went out to Lise’s (not knowing ANYTHING about any ‘real’ Happy Hills lady—as far as Chrissy knew, Lisa IS Happy Hills) to get the van, and Lise was acting funny (per Chrissy), and hemming and hawing about the title to the van (saying that she just couldn’t find it anywhere, but she second she did she’d be rushing it over to Chrissy, etc…). And considering Lise had told Chrissy 8k, cash, FIRM, Chrissy had been dreading asking Lise to give her the title without the full amount. Plus, this is very not like Lise—she is very much the kind of person who would tell you to go fuck yourself if you didn’t have the money. So it struck Chrissy as weird (Chrissy told me that she had a VERY weird feeling the whole time, that from the moment Lise opened the door there were bad vibes everywhere), and Chrissy told Lise to find the title, and phone her when she found it.
Then everything blew up.
What I am told is that the real Happy Hills Lady tried to get in touch with Lise, and when Lise stopped answering her phone, Ms Happy Hills phoned around and found out Lise was up and running, and had a space at PetsMart, and so on…so she phoned PetsMart, and PM ended up asking Lise to leave. And I am sure all kinds of other shit is raining down that I am not privy to, but the short of it is that Chrissy is fucked. Chrissy has around sixty of Lise’s cats, and nowhere for them to go, ‘cos there is no more Happy Hills.
At least not here.
And so I went by yesterday (now that I am feeling better) to talk to the new rescue group at what used to be Lise’s PetsMart on behalf of Chrissy. I told the new lady that before Chrissy helped me, I didn’t know crap about ANYTHING, and without Chrissy’s help, I didn’t know where I would be today, as far as this feral colony goes. I mean, sure—I still don’t have Mehitabel, and there are still two kits out there that need to be trapped and fixed in the next week or so, but I HAVE trapped and neutered a bunch from that colony, and I HAVE caught and homed seven of her kittens (not counting the ENTIRE last litter that the other girl at Eviljob caught), and I HAVE re-homed two that weren’t feral at all, but were lost or abandoned pets. Plus, I am only one person and this is an imperfect world, and there is (I have finally accepted) no such thing as a feral rescue group ANYWHERE IN THIS AREA. No one wants feral cats, no one will help adopt out feral cats, feed feral cats, or ANYTHING feral cats…the only reason I have had any help is just because Chrissy and a few other people have been being nice. So it’s
Butsoanyway.
So after I convinced New Lady that I wasn’t hitting her up to take feral cats, I tried to talk to her about Chrissy, who is screwed. New Lady said that she might be willing to work out something, but Chrissy would have to help her—submit to a home inspection, and work as a foster mom for a bit while they tried to carousel some of these animals out, ‘cos—catch this—Chrissy is only one of about FIVE or SIX people who have already contacted New Lady, ‘cos Lisa’d stuck them with a shiteload of cats and dogs under the guise of ‘fostering’ them (which translates into warehousing them). So I phoned Chrissy and left a message for her to let her know what’s going on. She is very depressed; she said that for almost a month straight, she’s done nothing but watch TV and cry. When I phoned her she was crying because of something she’d seen on Judge Judy, or whatever; it took her thirty minutes to get the whole story out to me. Plus I got to hear about Judge Judy. This is bad, it’s really bad. I don’t know what is going to happen, but…
Sigh. It will work out somehow. I’ll let you know.
Oh—and—when I went to Eviljob to feed the cats today, I was late (I overslept), and the two remaining kittens were sitting out by where I put the food, waiting for me in meatloaf position. Why do I do this? THAT is why I do this. They believe in me; they have trust in their tiny little furry hearts that I will come and bring food. They need me. God only knows they don’t have anyone or anything else, and the way things are shaping up, they probably never will.
Rhett and Cookie are fine, by the way. I guess with this recent turn of events, I am stuck with them—the only place I had to take them was Lisa’s, where the plan was that I’d pay her $80 each and she’d slip them into a cage at PetsMart, as long as I brought proof of speuter, vaccinations, and negative FIV/FeLV, like she did with the other cats she took from me.
Yes, that *was* the plan…I was kinda hoping they could be Christmas Cats for someone. Only that ‘someone’ is ME. Sigh. S’ok. I love them. :-) And Squooshable loves them, too.
Well, shit…what am I SUPPOSED to do? Drop them back off at Eviljob? They are totally tame and loving pets now. And there’s nowhere for them to go, especially if there’s going to be a glut of pet cats coming in from all of Lisa’s crap. Plus I love them, and they love me—I’m their Mom. Ohana means family, and family means nobody gets left behind. Or Forgotten.
3) With all this happiness afoot, I have to devote a number to the fact that it’s the most wonderful time of the god damned year. And I am making so motherfucking merry that I could just spit.
Or, well, I will. Eventually.
I have put no lights up, I haven’t decorated a damned thing. I feel like I have been in a holding pattern, waiting for something to end before I can get started with this merriment thing. And seriously, now—I make my own merriment. I mean, something goes wrong EVERY FREAKING YEAR. Every year. Do you have any idea how frustrating that is? Gang aft agley my ass; every year it’s like a damn free-for-all to see how stressed and strung out I can get, how much running around I can be made to do, and so on. If a fiasco is going to go down, it’s going to go down right in the middle of my farkety Holiday Season. And, might I remind you, that I am supposed to be like, happily married by now? Uhhh…yeah.
Now, I have managed two rather ok outings recently, but…that isn’t the point. And I don’t know if I am going to be up for any future outings. So anyway…
My point is that I am really becoming violently miserable, and here a goodly chunk of my family is abandoning me for the god damned holidays. Well, sort-of. Okay, they *say* they’ll be back by the 22nd (or whenever), but…whatever. I am completely out of holiday ideas. I am dry. Done. Kaput.
So here’s the holiday plan: I am going to go drive around and look at Christmas lights. This week. I might even take Squooshable with me. I am going to go look for houses that can be seen from Frogstar World B, and those that look like they have merely been invaded by radioactive spiders. And then, once I am off the damned antibiotics, I am going to watch stupid movies on the Hallmark Channel and probably get drunk.
Oh, yes... There will be egg nog.
Butsoanyway. Enough of my misery.
4) Number four was really number three before I went and got all distracted. It has to do with the fact that I can start off looking at Christmas lights on my own street, seeing as how the U-Haul tricks arrived today. Yes, U-Haul. A neighbour up the street brings U-Haul trucks (usually two small ones, occasionally one medium one) every year to unload the Christmas decorations. The whole family comes out, or over, and by Sunday evening, it’s up.
Well, it’s up.
This year they have polar bears, igloos, see-saws, lights framing the lawn, driveway, and the outline of the house, two Santas on the roof, and at least two snow globe blowy things. Plus some other stuff I am surely forgetting. It’s awesome. Although I haven’t decided if I like it or not.
5) I have forgotten what number five is and the game is over, so I am just going to sleep. G’night.
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