Oh, the PMS fairy has arrived in full force, that bitch. It’s not until the Day o’ Rage arrives that the two preceding days of boohooing given the slightest provocation (sad commercials, sweet kittens, stain on my shirt) make sense. And I’ve probably mentioned this before, but knowing the reason for the Day o’ Rage does not lessen the Rage in the slightest.
I was okay until after I got back from the vet and doing laundry and found that the laundry I’d put in the dryer two days ago was still wet. Because I hadn’t started the dryer. Which meant stinky clothes in the dryer. Which meant I had to rewash them. Which meant a temper tantrum.
O GOD WHY MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE?!?!?
And then I took the tomatoes which had been sitting out thawing for the last day, and I was going to run them through the food mill, then put them on the stove to simmer all day, so I could can them today. When I put the third tomato in the food mill and it popped like a zit, spraying tomato juice all over the fucking place, I decided I’D HAD ENOUGH OF THE GODDAMNED TOMATOES. Which meant a temper tantrum.
O GOD WHY MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE?!?!?
I stomped out to the chicken yards and tossed all the tomatoes to the chickens, who looked at the tomatoes like “What is THIS shit you’re trying to foist off on us” like the ungrateful motherfuckers they are, and I believe I probably yelled “GO FUCK YOURSELVES, YOU FUCKING ASSWIPES EAT THEM OR STARVE I DON’T CARE!” at them.
O GOD WHY MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE?!?!?
Then I came inside and spent – I fucking shit you not – half an hour trying to get a decent image of the book I’m currently reading, so I could FTP it up to my site and link to it in the sidebar. (Yes, I’m aware that Goodreads has a widget for just such an occasion. I don’t like the look of it, and I can’t figure out how to edit it to make it look the way I want.) I finally found a decent one, and FTP’d it up annnnnnd… it wasn’t there. FTP’d it up again. Not there.
FTP’d it up.
Not there.
FTP’d it up.
Not there.
Cue the bellowing. The GODDAMNing. The MOTHERFUCKing. The WHATTHEFUCK??ing.
The rebooting.
STILL NOT WORKING.
Cue the tantrum.
O GOD WHY MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE?!?!?
Tantrum completed, I uploaded the image to another place completely, where it uploaded successfully, linked to it in the sidebar, and since I’d blown that half hour I’d INTENDED to spend vacuuming the house fucking around with images and FTPing, I got up to go out to the chicken yards. I go out around 12:30 every day to toss out scratch for chickens, check on babies, give the dogs a treat, and gather eggs.
As I stood up, I glanced out into the back yard and noticed that Sugarbutt was sitting, watching something near the back steps VERY intently. I thought I could hear the sound of a bird being tortured, and then Kara ran across the back yard. I ran to the back door to prevent any half-dead creatures from entering my house, and saw Lafayette.
That little fucker had figured out the cat door. And he’d gone outside. AND Bill was sniffing at the cat door in a very interested manner.
I shooed Bill away from the door and then opened the door and sputtered at Lafayette, who turned and looked at me, all “HAI!”
“Get in here!” I said sternly, and he did.
“Get away from the door!” I said, and shot a blast of canned air at him. He ran into the kitchen.
I grabbed my basket for egg-gathering and a cup of scratch, and headed out to the chicken yards. I checked on baby chickens and fed the dogs their snacks and gathered eggs, and then trudged back to the house. I was putting the basket of eggs on the shelf unit by the door when I HAPPENED to glance at the door and saw Lafayette casually push his way through the cat door and skip-a-doodle-doo down the steps. Then Bill walked over to the cat door and pushed his head through, all “HOWYADOIN’ OUT THERE, BRO?!”
Why, hello tantrum time.
O GOD WHY MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE?!?!?
I stomped over to the door and shot a blast of compressed air at Bill, who ran into the kitchen. I flung open the door and bellowed “GET IN HERE!” at Lafayette. There might have been a string of obscenities involved.
I know that it will surprise you, but bellowing angrily at a kitten does not so much make the kitten want to run TOWARD you. Lafayette skipped the rest of the way down the steps and began running across the back yard. I turned around and put my boots on, then ran out after him.
He ran across the yard in great big happy leaps, all “I AM FREE FROM THE TYRANNY AND OPPRESSION OF BEING CONFINED TO 2200 SQUARE FEET! I AM FREE! FREE, I SAY! THE WORLD IS MY OYSTER!!!!” I ran after him, swearing all the while (but also kind of laughing because the great big leaps were funny). I finally caught him when he reached the fence and stood there staring at it, thinking “I CAN SEE THROUGH IT, YET I CANNOT WALK THROUGH IT. IT IS A WINDOW?”
I scooped him up and carried him back to the house, telling him the entire way that he was very bad, then shut the back door. Sugarbutt and Tommy were still in the back yard, but they know how to bang on the door in the perfect way to annoy me, so I figured if they wanted in, they’d let me know.
Then I was going to eat lunch, but do you suppose that there was ANYTHING in the house for lunch? OF COURSE NOT, and OF COURSE I hadn’t planned ahead.
O GOD WHY MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE?!?!?
I ended up using one of those sandwich thins, split it open, slapped pizza sauce on it, put a few pepperoni and a sprinkle of cheese on it, then broiled it.
In retrospect: 1. The pepperoni tasted kinda funny; I have no idea how long it had been sitting in there. 2. Not enough protein, which always makes me crash.
Half an hour later – the gas to end all gas.
O GOD WHY MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE?!?!?
Finally, I gave up and retired to the bedroom, where I crashed for about half an hour with Hoyt snuggled up to me on one side and Bill snuggled up to me on the other.
When I got up, the gas wasn’t gone, but I was in a better mood. I think that the cute fuzziness of Bill and Hoyt combined drove off that goddamn PMS fairy.
She’s not EVEN welcome here, but you KNOW she’ll be back again next month. Bitch.
First: Sookie went to the vet yesterday because her eyes didn’t seem to be getting better despite the oral antibiotics and the antibiotic ointment. They took her temperature (it was normal) and the vet looked her over and said that she thought that perhaps the antibiotic ointment was irritating her eyes, that I should go to regular “tears” (GenTeal makes a gel eyedrop that works really well) and give it a few days to see how that works. She could need a steroid shot to help the swelling – hopefully by Monday she’ll be looking better. She spent most of the day yesterday sleeping on a chair in the dining room, but she also got up and played a few times.
Second: Someone emailed and pointed out that I am horribly lax as far as providing pictures of Sookie lately, which I knew because over the weekend I went through my pictures to send the shelter manager pictures of each of the cats, and couldn’t find a decent shot of Sookie since mid-September. My only excuse is that she’s a quiet cat who tends to go off and sleep in out of the way places, as opposed to her loud, obnoxious, in-your-face brothers, and when I have the camera out I tend to take pictures of the cats around me. I’ll do better in the future, I promise!
Third: Sam, Hoyt, Lafayette, and Bill are going to the adoption center tomorrow morning. I will miss the heck out of them (and I’m sure I’ll be a big, sobbing baby when I have to leave them there), so I’m keeping my fingers crossed that they’re adopted quickly – y’all keep your fingers crossed too, okay?
Terry does his road kill impression. Seriously, I don’t know how that could possibly be comfortable.
Elwood and Hoyt, snuggled up on a dining room chair. See that bit of kitten body over to the middle? That would be Sookie. She likes to make it difficult to get a decent picture of her.
Bill has his way with the blanket.
Lafayette’s in charge of kitten cleanliness this week.
Sookie and Sam on the cat tree in the front room.
Bill gets his daily allowance of cardboard.
“Hey, come back! There’s room for both of us in here!”
Since four of the True Bloods will be going to the adoption center tomorrow, I’m going to be moving the Wonkas up to the foster kitten room this weekend. I hope they don’t get too freaked out – I suspect that they’ll think it’s pretty neat, with the rug to keep their toes warm, the cat towers to climb on, and all the toys to play with. Not to mention the water fountain to splash around in!
Poor Gus – someone’s always chomping on him. I think they think he’s made of cotton candy.
Have I mentioned I want to squeeze Mike to death?
“What?”
I don’t encourage them climbing up my legs, but it certainly makes me laugh. Maybe when they have cat towers to climb, they won’t feel the need to climb me?
Fightin’ time!
Bath time!
“Yes, operator? I’d like to make a long-distance call. Operator? OPERATOR? DARN these tabby-foot phones, they’re always dropping the connection!”
Previously
2008: Sam’s might be the ruination of this nation, but GODDAMN do I love that store.
2007: if you set foot in Crooked Acres, the law is that you admire not only the And3rson kitties, but also the And3rson fosters.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: Pretty beach pictures!
2003: I’m afraid Miz Poo’s reign as Queen Shit may be coming to a close.
2002: Elvis sneer, zits, weird wiry hair. What next, I ask you?
2001: Cheater entry.
2000: No entry.
1999: Fascinating, isn’t it?!