Missed again

Crap.

I mis-remembered the speuterfest date -- it is *next* weekend, not
this coming weekend. In the meantime, a kitten was hit and killed in
Eviljob's parking lot on Tuesday, and I am so upset over this that I
cannot even describe how I feel. I tried to find where the body was,
what happened to it, *something*, and no-one seems to know. I could
find no trace of it, or I would have given it a decent burial. This is
so depressing, and I am so strung out emotionally that I have to stop
thinking about it or I will start crying again; as it is, I was in the
bathroom bawling, and I even feel guilty for crying, because no matter
what I feel, because I am incompetent, that kitten felt worse.

Today's pre-op went shittily as well; unlike my 2003 surgery (and this
is a different, allegedly better hospital), I was rushed through, the
admitting nurse neither listened nor knew what she was talking about,
and she was a tich rude besides. Oh, forget it; I am being nice -- she
was clearly one of those 'I hate women' women, and as long as I live,
I will never understand the animosity, the pure *hatefulness* with
which some women deal with other women. I am not saying we should all
go around calling each other 'sister' and fucking singing Kum-Bah-Yah,
but the womyn-y version of a fucking professional courtesy would not
be such a ridiculous proposition. We all hurt, we bleed, we have
rampaging fucktards in our lives and histories...why the cruelty, the
terseness, the dismissal? Why assume the worst? If nothing else, men
and women are more similar than different (don't tell me no, I study
and teach the brain), so this 'I get along with men, but I hate other
women' is just sexist bullshit, general stupidity, and a heaping
helping of wishful thinking.

As can probably be inferred, today has been a shitty day, and I am
tired and depressed.

And Soni just set a new world record...christ; I am going to start
wearing one of those Speedo Laser suits all the time like secret
Mormon underwear. That's freaking incredible!

ok, back to my depression:

I feel guilty about the kitten. Hideously, horribly guilty for
anything I could have done and didn't, and for any happiness or even
relief I may have had on Tuesday. I am aware that is irrational, but
it is the truth; I have regret enough to drown, especially when I
think about how I was trying to pick my mood up when I got back from
the hospital ordeal and was joking and laughing. Guilt. Total guilt.

So, in short, I suck. And we all knew that. Maybe my pre-op nurse knew
that, too.