I went to the doctor yesterday, but all I can tell you so far is that I don’t have an infection, according to my blood work. My potassium’s low (I got a potassium supplement and she told me to eat potassium-rich food), and she gave me a probiotic. She ordered a fecal (do they call it a “fecal” for humans?), and I got the containers from the lab, brought them home, did all that, and dropped them off yesterday afternoon. It takes three days to get the results from that.
She suggested that it’s a possibility that I had a virus, and my guts are still feeling the effects from that. If the lab results show nothing and I’m not feeling any better, they’ll send me to a gastroenterologist.
I remembered last night that I had an egg mcmuffin from McDonald’s last Monday morning before all this shit (har har) started. Fred thinks it would be absolutely the HEIGHT of hilarity if I got salmonella from an egg from McDonald’s, what with all the eggs we grow ourselves. Oh, yes. FUNNY.
Hey, guess what? ‘Nother cat pic entry for you.
The face is cracking me UP.
Over the weekend, Fred finally got around to fixing the door at the end of the hallway so that we could pull it across the hall and let the babies have a little more space to roam. Now, during the day, they have their room, the bathroom, and my room to run around in. At first, they weren’t quite sure what they thought about that, but after a few days they decided it was pretty cool. I can hear them up there racing around as I type.
The only problem is that bratty Bolitar can jump to the top of the door (it’s a half-door) with his ridiculously long and lanky legs, and he runs into the hallway and hisses and growls and just generally acts the big bully. He’s kind of like Godzilla, all flailing around growling while tiny Martin and Dodger and Melodie and Moxie go running for their lives.
Martin thinks he’s big and bad ’til he comes face to face with Godzilla, I’m telling you. Then he just kind of squeaks in terror and runs so fast his legs blur.
The up side is that Bolitar only comes over the door when I’m in there, so most of the time the poor babies can run and play without fear.
“I just has to teach ’em that I’m the boss!”
Exhibit A: ridiculously long and lanky legs.
Corbett does not condone bullying.
Corbett’s a lovah, not a fightah!
Da Sugs.
Previously
2009: He was a regular fucking Pop Goes the Weasel.
2008: No entry.
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: SqueeSqueeSQUEESQUEE! the bird squealed.
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: My computer is getting so freakin’ slow that it’s driving me absolutely batshit, and I’m spending way too much time swearing at it.
2000: No entry.