Something bit me while I was sleeping last night and left me with a 3" rash on my arm. So that was fun. And also itchy.
On an unrelated note, I got to thinking about life, and what happens when it changes without your permission. Generally speaking I'm going to say this is something most people don't welcome. The unexpected changes seldom seem to be something good, like "I was a confirmed bachelor but I fell in love and now I'm so happy!" or "I somehow won a million dollars!" They seem to be things like "I have cancer and about a year to do anything else I want to do with my life" or "My partner left me; now what?"
Observing my friends who have had radical life changes enacted upon them (for instance spouse divorces them, or dies) they have all seemed to carry on. They have adjusted their lives to deal with loss, but their lives are very similar. Same job, same house, same friends. After a mourning period, of course. But basically they keep a stiff upper lip and stay the course.
I don't think that would be me. A) I am terrible at the stiff upper lip. I'm a cryer. I would cry, and carry on, and walk my dog in the rain, and generally drink a lot of beer and feel sorry for myself. B) When one big thing in my life changes, I tend to reevaluate all of the other things. Let's say my house burned down. My first act would not be to find somebody to build a new house. I'm thinking my first act would be to consider whether or not I really want to live "here" anymore. Perhaps the house burning down is a convenient entree to moving to somewhere with a better climate.
And now that I'm thinking about it, there are probably other ways to deal with big change. Probably if I had studied psychology rather than physics I wouldn't have to work these things out from first principles. But then, I probably also wouldn't be aware of the concept of working things out from first principles. And then where would I be?
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Sometimes I'm easily distr- oh look, shiny!
Oh thank goodness I have Eddy back. He's driving smooth, too. It was good to be in the driver's seat again. I picked him up after work today. Rabies is now parked again and I hope not to drive her for a good long while. I got tired of planning extra space around everything. And parking at the back of the lot because she's too big for any of the normal parking spaces, that got on my nerves.
I didn't get a ton of sleep last night. JD's plane was delayed due to tornadoes. I did finally get to sleep before he got home. JUST before he got home. I wasn't terribly alert when he came in. I woke up and from under the pillow I observed the dog tilting her head from side to side. Generally she would get up and start barking and whining when JD came home, but last night she just put her head back down. The next time I opened my eyes, I could see a naked man from mid thigh to mid chest. Which, I admit, made me open my eyes a bit wider. And then I mumbled a sleepy "Hi, honey" and went back to sleep.
This morning, I kept hitting the snooze alarm for over half an hour. I finally pried myself out of bed with the promise of caffeine. Caffeine AND a breakfast sandwich. I was actually dressed and down the stairs before I remembered that I would be driving Rabies. I've been avoid drive-thrus because I don't see myself successfully navigating the little lanes without taking out any curbs or menu displays.
Fortunately the cafeteria at work reopened not long ago, and they cook up breakfast sandwiches. It wasn't greasy like McDonald's, and it didn't come with hash browns like McDonald's, but it was good. And I got to have strawberries and watermelon on the side.
I'm still feeling a bit disjointed. My train of thought derailed last night, around the time my attic fan started making jackhammer noises. It stopped, but that was the last time I had any luck in.. what was I talking about again? I have no idea.
Okay I'm going to bed now.
 |
| A typical scene in my living room. |
 |
| This cat has had too much caffeine. |
This morning, I kept hitting the snooze alarm for over half an hour. I finally pried myself out of bed with the promise of caffeine. Caffeine AND a breakfast sandwich. I was actually dressed and down the stairs before I remembered that I would be driving Rabies. I've been avoid drive-thrus because I don't see myself successfully navigating the little lanes without taking out any curbs or menu displays.
Fortunately the cafeteria at work reopened not long ago, and they cook up breakfast sandwiches. It wasn't greasy like McDonald's, and it didn't come with hash browns like McDonald's, but it was good. And I got to have strawberries and watermelon on the side.
I'm still feeling a bit disjointed. My train of thought derailed last night, around the time my attic fan started making jackhammer noises. It stopped, but that was the last time I had any luck in.. what was I talking about again? I have no idea.
Okay I'm going to bed now.
Monday, September 5, 2011
Achievement unlocked: napping
I finally got a nap today. I'm not sure how long it's been since I've had a nap. Weeks if not months. I fell asleep on the sofa with my shoes on. Andy the cat was pinning me to the sofa by way of my lap. DeLee and I were supposed to go out today, but she got some horrible bug bites while we were hiking on Saturday so she was taking it easy and trying not to scratch them.
After I established that we were not, in fact, going anywhere, I wandered into the living room. I wasn't really thinking nap. I wasn't thinking much of anything. I sat on the sofa and invited various cats up to get petted. However, being cats, they snubbed me as soon as they realized I wanted to pay attention to them. So I was just reclining there, not thinking about very much, when zzzZZZZZ.
At some point Andy curled up on me. And then later I felt chilly and took off my shoes and dragged a blanket over me. Of course Andy left while I was in the shoe-taking-off process. Only Dori has the fortitude to stick around for that. But as soon as I was reclined again, I felt the weight and needle pricks of a cat navigating his way around a prone body.
I fell asleep again only to wake up sweaty. There is no middle ground. Some day I will probably discover clothing which will keep me comfortable, neither too chilly nor too warm. Guaranteed the clothing will be too expensive to afford, fragile, ugly, or all three.
So, basically, I got nothing done today. I haven't left the building.
Although, I *did* swap out the air filter up in the attic. I think it's the first time this year, which is ridiculous. What's more ridiculous is the athletic routine required to swap out the filter. A) I'm not tall enough to reach the rope to pull down the attic door. B) Once you get up there, you have to duck walk under a roof support. C) Once you've gotten under the support, you have to edge across a couple of wobbly boards spanning the chasm over the front hall. And then of course after you've swapped out the filter you have to reverse the process in the opposite direction.
I wanted to take a look at our gable fan, which has gotten insanely loud, so I didn't reverse the process right away. First I clambered over the ductwork (which thank goodness can hold my weight, because there is no way to just step over it), then held onto the rafters as I stepped from beam to beam. The gable fan, is, of course, at the far end of the attic.
I determined that the gable fan is all rusty, but that's not why it's loud. One support was screwed into one of the 140 year old vent louvers, which has finally come loose after a couple of decades of stress from the fan vibration. Now whenever the fan comes on it rattles that louver, and the vibration transmits itself throughout the structure of the house. Even JD's closet door vibrates, at the other end of the house and one story down. It's delightful.
Still I figure it's time to replace the fan, and we'll attach it to something more solid. I spent some time shopping online for a replacement fan. They all look pretty much the same, but the price ranges from $45 to $400+. It's crazy! How am I supposed to figure out which one to get? My googling hasn't led me to any independent reviews which might help me decide. There are actually a bunch of attic gable fan websites, believe it or not. They aren't helpful. They say things like "attic gable fans reduce your electrical bill by reducing the heat load in your attic!" as if this were news. But actually comparing different fan manufacturers? Not so much.
The most expensive fans have 10 year warranties, and the cheapos have 1 year warranties. I really would like something that would last 20-30 years as this one appears to have, but I guess people don't really build stuff with the intention of having it last anymore. I mean, how would that benefit them?
So my Labor Day was spent napping and not buying anything. You're welcome, economy. Anytime.
After I established that we were not, in fact, going anywhere, I wandered into the living room. I wasn't really thinking nap. I wasn't thinking much of anything. I sat on the sofa and invited various cats up to get petted. However, being cats, they snubbed me as soon as they realized I wanted to pay attention to them. So I was just reclining there, not thinking about very much, when zzzZZZZZ.
At some point Andy curled up on me. And then later I felt chilly and took off my shoes and dragged a blanket over me. Of course Andy left while I was in the shoe-taking-off process. Only Dori has the fortitude to stick around for that. But as soon as I was reclined again, I felt the weight and needle pricks of a cat navigating his way around a prone body.
I fell asleep again only to wake up sweaty. There is no middle ground. Some day I will probably discover clothing which will keep me comfortable, neither too chilly nor too warm. Guaranteed the clothing will be too expensive to afford, fragile, ugly, or all three.
So, basically, I got nothing done today. I haven't left the building.
Although, I *did* swap out the air filter up in the attic. I think it's the first time this year, which is ridiculous. What's more ridiculous is the athletic routine required to swap out the filter. A) I'm not tall enough to reach the rope to pull down the attic door. B) Once you get up there, you have to duck walk under a roof support. C) Once you've gotten under the support, you have to edge across a couple of wobbly boards spanning the chasm over the front hall. And then of course after you've swapped out the filter you have to reverse the process in the opposite direction.
I wanted to take a look at our gable fan, which has gotten insanely loud, so I didn't reverse the process right away. First I clambered over the ductwork (which thank goodness can hold my weight, because there is no way to just step over it), then held onto the rafters as I stepped from beam to beam. The gable fan, is, of course, at the far end of the attic.
I determined that the gable fan is all rusty, but that's not why it's loud. One support was screwed into one of the 140 year old vent louvers, which has finally come loose after a couple of decades of stress from the fan vibration. Now whenever the fan comes on it rattles that louver, and the vibration transmits itself throughout the structure of the house. Even JD's closet door vibrates, at the other end of the house and one story down. It's delightful.
Still I figure it's time to replace the fan, and we'll attach it to something more solid. I spent some time shopping online for a replacement fan. They all look pretty much the same, but the price ranges from $45 to $400+. It's crazy! How am I supposed to figure out which one to get? My googling hasn't led me to any independent reviews which might help me decide. There are actually a bunch of attic gable fan websites, believe it or not. They aren't helpful. They say things like "attic gable fans reduce your electrical bill by reducing the heat load in your attic!" as if this were news. But actually comparing different fan manufacturers? Not so much.
The most expensive fans have 10 year warranties, and the cheapos have 1 year warranties. I really would like something that would last 20-30 years as this one appears to have, but I guess people don't really build stuff with the intention of having it last anymore. I mean, how would that benefit them?
So my Labor Day was spent napping and not buying anything. You're welcome, economy. Anytime.
Sunday, September 4, 2011
The evil opposite of evil is actually quite nice
This morning I did something that I have not done for months. I rode my horse.
So, let's see.. I last rode in June, I think. Therefore today's ride cost me over $700 for board, farrier, worming, treats, and etc. If you ride irregularly the amortization gets really ugly. I'm going to stop thinking about it now.
When I took my car to the garage on Thursday I wasn't thinking about Sunday, and so I didn't retrieve my gear from the back. This morning I was in need of riding gloves, horse treats, wormer, and riding boots (with a heel, an important safety feature. Hiking boots would not do.) I picked up everything but boots at the feed store before going to the farm. Luckily Tara keeps a spare pair of paddock boots in her trailer. Otherwise I would have had to ride with no stirrups. I don't see my first ride in months as coinciding well with a lack of stirrups.
Pluto doesn't recognize Rabies as one of my vehicles. He didn't even look up as I drove by. Eventually he noticed me fetching tack out of the barn, though, and he walked up to the fence. When I went to get him we did our usual dance. He came up to me for a pat and a treat, then stepped out of reach when I offered up his halter. I turned away from him and pretended to ignore him while I inspected the scenery. After a moment I peeked over my shoulder and caught him looking back at me over his own shoulder. Then he walked up and let me put his halter on.
I'm pretty sure all the other horse / person pairs don't do it that way. Why would a horse want me to feign disinterest? I've owned horses for decades and I still don't get them.
I had wondered if today would be a good day or a bad day. There's Pluto on a normal day (somewhat naughty, will cooperate with sufficient prodding and cookies.) There's Evil Pluto - won't cooperate AT ALL unless he perceives that temporary cooperation might give him an opportunity to knock me down and then run away. And there's Otulp. The angelic opposite of Evil Pluto. Otulp is helpful, calm, and pleasant. I don't see Otulp much.
Today was an Otulp day. Despite our halter dance, Pluto calmly walked over to our grooming area, submitted to grooming with abnormally good grace (he is not a fan of the whole Barbie Horse phenomenon), and didn't even do the Saddle Dance. Generally we take a few steps to the right and then a few steps to the left, and then we put our left foot in, and then we shake it all about, and then I yell at him to STAND STILL DAMMIT so I can fasten the girth. Today he just stood there like it's totally normal to have your saddle put on. As if he hadn't just spent seven years practicing the Hokey Pokey.
Despite the Otulp face I put a chain on him, because I am not a trusting person. Not that long ago he got away from me several times in one day, and I'm trying to prevent a recurrence. Unfortunately, I don't use a chain much so I didn't put it on well. At all. First I doubled it up, and one section started drifting down to his nostril region as soon as we began walking. He started squinching up his nose and shaking his head and generally trying to deal with the problem on his own. I undoubled the chain but the squinching continued until I remembered that you have to wrap the chain around the noseband. So, finally, he trained me to use the chain correctly and we were able to walk over to the arena.
Over at the arena I swapped the chain for reins and we walked over to the mounting block. I asked him if he remembered the mounting deal. I have no idea why I think the phrase "stand still as a statue" will resonate with my backyard horse. I don't think he's ever seen a statue. Never the less, that's what I say every time. And every time he maneuvers himself away from the mounting block after I step up on it. Once. I step down, move the mounting block to his new location, and then step back up to mount with no problem. It's part of our routine. Not a *good* part, mind you. I just don't know how to untrain it.
So, after the Mounting Block Dance and my step up into the saddle, he really does stand still like a statue. This may be my favorite thing about him. I hate hate hate it when horses move off as soon as you've gotten on. I want time to get settled, sort out the reins, adjust my stirrups, and maybe take a cellphone call. Still Like Statue horse is good for that. He stays that way, too, until I offer him a cookie. On the rare occasion that I have forgotten a cookie, he has looked very put upon and then moved off with a grumble.
That would be the problem with cookie training. Nobody should have to suffer through put upon looks.
Does it bother you that I just spent half an hour giving you a detailed description of that process? Because actually doing it may not have taken as long. I am perhaps a tad long winded.
Long story short, he was good.
I'm pondering ways to keep riding interesting while limited to one gait. I experimented a bit with riding only from my seat today. When I first bought Pluto he didn't quite understand the whole "rein" thing and so I rode him from my seat and legs. He has since adjusted quite well to reins, to the extent that he is dependent on them for cues. My attempt to ride from seat was amusing but not incredibly effective. I've determined that he will perform a credible halt upon the tightening of my abdominal muscles, but other than that I'm out of luck. Steering is nearly non-existent. On the rare occasion that he takes my cue and turns, he does so bent in the wrong direction.
So, we have something to work on. Good.
Tara longed Timber and then rode a bit. She suggested we play follow the leader, which we did until my back started to twinge. I didn't wait for it to get worse, this time. I called it a day right after the first pain. So far, it looks as if that has saved me from a backache this evening. Yay! I like backache-free evenings.
I stopped for Chipotle on the way home, and then apparently several hours disappeared and it was dinner time. Weird. Stupid Internet and its stupid interesting links.
I made a long to-do list on Friday night and I actually did several of the chores today. Between that and riding my horse I feel like I've won some sort of personal lottery. Now on the lookout for falling pianos and/or a whole new list of time sensitive chores suddenly making itself obvious.
So, let's see.. I last rode in June, I think. Therefore today's ride cost me over $700 for board, farrier, worming, treats, and etc. If you ride irregularly the amortization gets really ugly. I'm going to stop thinking about it now.
When I took my car to the garage on Thursday I wasn't thinking about Sunday, and so I didn't retrieve my gear from the back. This morning I was in need of riding gloves, horse treats, wormer, and riding boots (with a heel, an important safety feature. Hiking boots would not do.) I picked up everything but boots at the feed store before going to the farm. Luckily Tara keeps a spare pair of paddock boots in her trailer. Otherwise I would have had to ride with no stirrups. I don't see my first ride in months as coinciding well with a lack of stirrups.
Pluto doesn't recognize Rabies as one of my vehicles. He didn't even look up as I drove by. Eventually he noticed me fetching tack out of the barn, though, and he walked up to the fence. When I went to get him we did our usual dance. He came up to me for a pat and a treat, then stepped out of reach when I offered up his halter. I turned away from him and pretended to ignore him while I inspected the scenery. After a moment I peeked over my shoulder and caught him looking back at me over his own shoulder. Then he walked up and let me put his halter on.
I'm pretty sure all the other horse / person pairs don't do it that way. Why would a horse want me to feign disinterest? I've owned horses for decades and I still don't get them.
I had wondered if today would be a good day or a bad day. There's Pluto on a normal day (somewhat naughty, will cooperate with sufficient prodding and cookies.) There's Evil Pluto - won't cooperate AT ALL unless he perceives that temporary cooperation might give him an opportunity to knock me down and then run away. And there's Otulp. The angelic opposite of Evil Pluto. Otulp is helpful, calm, and pleasant. I don't see Otulp much.
Today was an Otulp day. Despite our halter dance, Pluto calmly walked over to our grooming area, submitted to grooming with abnormally good grace (he is not a fan of the whole Barbie Horse phenomenon), and didn't even do the Saddle Dance. Generally we take a few steps to the right and then a few steps to the left, and then we put our left foot in, and then we shake it all about, and then I yell at him to STAND STILL DAMMIT so I can fasten the girth. Today he just stood there like it's totally normal to have your saddle put on. As if he hadn't just spent seven years practicing the Hokey Pokey.
Despite the Otulp face I put a chain on him, because I am not a trusting person. Not that long ago he got away from me several times in one day, and I'm trying to prevent a recurrence. Unfortunately, I don't use a chain much so I didn't put it on well. At all. First I doubled it up, and one section started drifting down to his nostril region as soon as we began walking. He started squinching up his nose and shaking his head and generally trying to deal with the problem on his own. I undoubled the chain but the squinching continued until I remembered that you have to wrap the chain around the noseband. So, finally, he trained me to use the chain correctly and we were able to walk over to the arena.
Over at the arena I swapped the chain for reins and we walked over to the mounting block. I asked him if he remembered the mounting deal. I have no idea why I think the phrase "stand still as a statue" will resonate with my backyard horse. I don't think he's ever seen a statue. Never the less, that's what I say every time. And every time he maneuvers himself away from the mounting block after I step up on it. Once. I step down, move the mounting block to his new location, and then step back up to mount with no problem. It's part of our routine. Not a *good* part, mind you. I just don't know how to untrain it.
So, after the Mounting Block Dance and my step up into the saddle, he really does stand still like a statue. This may be my favorite thing about him. I hate hate hate it when horses move off as soon as you've gotten on. I want time to get settled, sort out the reins, adjust my stirrups, and maybe take a cellphone call. Still Like Statue horse is good for that. He stays that way, too, until I offer him a cookie. On the rare occasion that I have forgotten a cookie, he has looked very put upon and then moved off with a grumble.
That would be the problem with cookie training. Nobody should have to suffer through put upon looks.
Does it bother you that I just spent half an hour giving you a detailed description of that process? Because actually doing it may not have taken as long. I am perhaps a tad long winded.
Long story short, he was good.
I'm pondering ways to keep riding interesting while limited to one gait. I experimented a bit with riding only from my seat today. When I first bought Pluto he didn't quite understand the whole "rein" thing and so I rode him from my seat and legs. He has since adjusted quite well to reins, to the extent that he is dependent on them for cues. My attempt to ride from seat was amusing but not incredibly effective. I've determined that he will perform a credible halt upon the tightening of my abdominal muscles, but other than that I'm out of luck. Steering is nearly non-existent. On the rare occasion that he takes my cue and turns, he does so bent in the wrong direction.
So, we have something to work on. Good.
Tara longed Timber and then rode a bit. She suggested we play follow the leader, which we did until my back started to twinge. I didn't wait for it to get worse, this time. I called it a day right after the first pain. So far, it looks as if that has saved me from a backache this evening. Yay! I like backache-free evenings.
I stopped for Chipotle on the way home, and then apparently several hours disappeared and it was dinner time. Weird. Stupid Internet and its stupid interesting links.
I made a long to-do list on Friday night and I actually did several of the chores today. Between that and riding my horse I feel like I've won some sort of personal lottery. Now on the lookout for falling pianos and/or a whole new list of time sensitive chores suddenly making itself obvious.
Saturday, September 3, 2011
The hiker hobble is a wee bit excessive
In an attempt to get back to my regularly scheduled life, I met up with DeLee this weekend and we went for our regular walk in the park. Both of us found it more strenuous than usual, and it took us longer than usual. The lunch afterward, however, was completely normal.
Although, normally when you go out to lunch the cashier doesn't exclaim "Where you been?!" because you haven't been there for a month. And the waiter doesn't ask where your husband is. Probably the waiter doesn't look knowing when you say "Have you heard of DragonCon?" Also, the waiter probably isn't shocked that you want a regular drink rather than diet.
I'm trying to remember how long I've been going to that restaurant. 12 years? It kinda shows. They never said a word over the years as I brought in a succession of men. About the men, that is. I bet they wondered, though. They noticed when JD and I got engaged, and then when we got married. They're probably waiting for me to show up with a swollen belly. (Ain't gonna happen.) I've observed their pregnancies, and then their babies, who turned into children, who are kind of tall by now. I like it. I like the continuity of a neighborhood restaurant, where they remember you and care what happens to you. They've been there for my dates, my breakups, my illnesses, my own little tragedies and celebrations. I worry about them and how their business does when the economy is down. If they closed it would leave an unreasonably large hole in my life.
Anyway. This post is not about that restaurant.
Before I got off track on food (it's a hiker thing) I was talking about how the hiking was harder than usual. I still feel kind of tired and sore from my vacation, I think. Dang that was a tough hike. It's going to take me some time to bounce back. I don't know what I'd do if I were thruhiking. You don't have weeks of bounce back time on a thruhike.
I wonder how I would have felt, physically, had I had time to complete my thruhike last year. I felt great in Vermont.. maybe not so much by the time I finished New Hampshire and Maine?
Shoot, I just poked my left knee with a finger and it hurt when I touched it. I don't think I've ever had this level of post hike soreness before when I haven't actually sprained / strained / broken something. It makes me feel decrepit. One lousy month of hiking and I'm gimping around. I didn't have any particular falls or incidents that would have given me traumatic injuries, but I think the sustained effort of big steps up and down has taken a toll on my knees and ankles. If they're not feeling less ouchy in a week or so I guess I'll have to go talk to my doctor and admit I did the crazy long distance hiking thing again, and get her to help me. I hate doing that. She keeps suggesting that I take up easier hobbies.
Plus there's the fact that I'm not overflowing with energy. I really should be, by now. Instead I'm sitting on my arse (after a 3 hour morning hike, admittedly) instead of cleaning out the fridge, which dearly needs it.
Perhaps I will clean the fridge out tomorrow.
Or perhaps I will nap.
Although, normally when you go out to lunch the cashier doesn't exclaim "Where you been?!" because you haven't been there for a month. And the waiter doesn't ask where your husband is. Probably the waiter doesn't look knowing when you say "Have you heard of DragonCon?" Also, the waiter probably isn't shocked that you want a regular drink rather than diet.
I'm trying to remember how long I've been going to that restaurant. 12 years? It kinda shows. They never said a word over the years as I brought in a succession of men. About the men, that is. I bet they wondered, though. They noticed when JD and I got engaged, and then when we got married. They're probably waiting for me to show up with a swollen belly. (Ain't gonna happen.) I've observed their pregnancies, and then their babies, who turned into children, who are kind of tall by now. I like it. I like the continuity of a neighborhood restaurant, where they remember you and care what happens to you. They've been there for my dates, my breakups, my illnesses, my own little tragedies and celebrations. I worry about them and how their business does when the economy is down. If they closed it would leave an unreasonably large hole in my life.
Anyway. This post is not about that restaurant.
Before I got off track on food (it's a hiker thing) I was talking about how the hiking was harder than usual. I still feel kind of tired and sore from my vacation, I think. Dang that was a tough hike. It's going to take me some time to bounce back. I don't know what I'd do if I were thruhiking. You don't have weeks of bounce back time on a thruhike.
I wonder how I would have felt, physically, had I had time to complete my thruhike last year. I felt great in Vermont.. maybe not so much by the time I finished New Hampshire and Maine?
Shoot, I just poked my left knee with a finger and it hurt when I touched it. I don't think I've ever had this level of post hike soreness before when I haven't actually sprained / strained / broken something. It makes me feel decrepit. One lousy month of hiking and I'm gimping around. I didn't have any particular falls or incidents that would have given me traumatic injuries, but I think the sustained effort of big steps up and down has taken a toll on my knees and ankles. If they're not feeling less ouchy in a week or so I guess I'll have to go talk to my doctor and admit I did the crazy long distance hiking thing again, and get her to help me. I hate doing that. She keeps suggesting that I take up easier hobbies.
Plus there's the fact that I'm not overflowing with energy. I really should be, by now. Instead I'm sitting on my arse (after a 3 hour morning hike, admittedly) instead of cleaning out the fridge, which dearly needs it.
Perhaps I will clean the fridge out tomorrow.
Or perhaps I will nap.
Friday, September 2, 2011
Sominus Interruptus Droolius
We had a surprise thunderstorm last night. The dog let me know about it by getting up on the bed, shaking violently, and drooling. On me. There is very little that is as refreshing as the copious drool of a terrified dog spraying across your back at 3 AM.
I am not at my best at 3 AM. I am not even a little bit coherent. Unless there is something to startle me into alertness (gunshots; direct lightning strikes; my beloved making sounds indicating that he may be dying on his side of the bed) I am likely to grunt and roll over. Which is what I did. Several times. I was feebly trying to escape the drool.
Unfortunately the dog was HIGHLY alert and unfazed by my ability to move several inches on the bed. So the water torture continued. I patted her on the head reassuringly in the hope that she would settle down. This has never worked before, but I am dumb as a stump in the middle of the night and I always try it. She shoved her head under my hand with the implication that if I directed all my attention to petting and comforting her, she would agree to drool onto the bedding instead of my skin.
Eventually, my three on duty neurons collided and formed an idea. Drugs! I would drug the dog. We have drugs to give her if there is a storm coming. Actually she and I take the same drugs - me for travel, her for travel and storms. So all I had to do was find an appropriate bottle of pills for either of us, and I would be golden.
I dragged her into the bathroom with me. No way was I leaving her alone in the bedroom, possibly to lose bladder control and/or eat the trim around the door. As soon as I opened the bedroom door she wanted to bolt for the basement, but I am not JD and I do NOT go down to the basement in the middle of the night just because my dog is anxious. That would make ME anxious. I've owned this house since 1999 and it still freaks me out down there. It's way too Silence of the Lambs in the basement. And there was that one time with the bat. So no. No basement-going.
I lucked out in the bathroom and found two and a half pills. She only needs a half pill. I have no idea whose pills they were, because at some point they'd been relocated into a small ziplock bag for travel (which, if you recall, is appropriate for both of us.) No matter. I pried her mouth open and put the pill on the back of her tongue. If she had been a cat she would have given me the stink eye and spit it out, but thank goodness she's a dog and all she did was pant and smile. The poor dupe. She really believes we can make the bad noises go away if we just try hard enough, and she sucks up unbelievably in an attempt to make this happen.
So with my dog possibly on the way to being medicated (I didn't pry open her mouth again to see if she had really swallowed) I dragged her back into the bedroom and climbed back in bed. And waited. Within minutes, the dog heaved a HUGE sigh and curled up at the foot of the bed. And stopped vibrating violently.
Man, I love drugs.
As soon as the dog ceased and desisted with the Magic Fingers imitation, I passed out again. Seconds passed. The alarm went off. Really, world? Shouldn't I get some sort of morning deferral based on my heroic pill-finding action? I'm not asking for a lot here. I just want an extra, say, hour. Just enough to turn me into something other than a heavy-eyed redheaded zombie.
But, no. No deferral. Not even a wait list. I had to get up and feed animals and go to work.
As a result today was not a stellar work day. (Though, I must say, Dawn for some reason had cupcakes and my GOD the one she gave me was good. ) My mental fog allowed me to perform some activities which I usually find distasteful. Generally I procrastinate the yucky stuff, but I find that either insufficient sleep or a really solid cold is enough to protect me from the feelings of rage I usually get when I have to deal with certain things. So assuming I'm alert on Tuesday, I will at least have the satisfaction of knowing that my zombie self took on some of the dirty work.
Dinner tonight was courtesy of the farmer's market - a fragrant tomato sliced up and dusted with garlic salt, one of the sweetest ears of corn I've ever eaten, and a piece of baguette. I'm pretty sure the baguette will not survive the night. No potassium sorbate, or whatever it is that they put into foods so they don't immediately get stale / mold / shrivel into nothingness. Of course, that's why it's so good. Baguettes that can last several days typically have all the flavor and texture of a rubber eraser.
I think that once I've prodded myself into cleaning the litter boxes, I'll make an early night of it. They aren't calling for storms, are they?
I am not at my best at 3 AM. I am not even a little bit coherent. Unless there is something to startle me into alertness (gunshots; direct lightning strikes; my beloved making sounds indicating that he may be dying on his side of the bed) I am likely to grunt and roll over. Which is what I did. Several times. I was feebly trying to escape the drool.
Unfortunately the dog was HIGHLY alert and unfazed by my ability to move several inches on the bed. So the water torture continued. I patted her on the head reassuringly in the hope that she would settle down. This has never worked before, but I am dumb as a stump in the middle of the night and I always try it. She shoved her head under my hand with the implication that if I directed all my attention to petting and comforting her, she would agree to drool onto the bedding instead of my skin.
Eventually, my three on duty neurons collided and formed an idea. Drugs! I would drug the dog. We have drugs to give her if there is a storm coming. Actually she and I take the same drugs - me for travel, her for travel and storms. So all I had to do was find an appropriate bottle of pills for either of us, and I would be golden.
I dragged her into the bathroom with me. No way was I leaving her alone in the bedroom, possibly to lose bladder control and/or eat the trim around the door. As soon as I opened the bedroom door she wanted to bolt for the basement, but I am not JD and I do NOT go down to the basement in the middle of the night just because my dog is anxious. That would make ME anxious. I've owned this house since 1999 and it still freaks me out down there. It's way too Silence of the Lambs in the basement. And there was that one time with the bat. So no. No basement-going.
I lucked out in the bathroom and found two and a half pills. She only needs a half pill. I have no idea whose pills they were, because at some point they'd been relocated into a small ziplock bag for travel (which, if you recall, is appropriate for both of us.) No matter. I pried her mouth open and put the pill on the back of her tongue. If she had been a cat she would have given me the stink eye and spit it out, but thank goodness she's a dog and all she did was pant and smile. The poor dupe. She really believes we can make the bad noises go away if we just try hard enough, and she sucks up unbelievably in an attempt to make this happen.
So with my dog possibly on the way to being medicated (I didn't pry open her mouth again to see if she had really swallowed) I dragged her back into the bedroom and climbed back in bed. And waited. Within minutes, the dog heaved a HUGE sigh and curled up at the foot of the bed. And stopped vibrating violently.
Man, I love drugs.
As soon as the dog ceased and desisted with the Magic Fingers imitation, I passed out again. Seconds passed. The alarm went off. Really, world? Shouldn't I get some sort of morning deferral based on my heroic pill-finding action? I'm not asking for a lot here. I just want an extra, say, hour. Just enough to turn me into something other than a heavy-eyed redheaded zombie.
But, no. No deferral. Not even a wait list. I had to get up and feed animals and go to work.
As a result today was not a stellar work day. (Though, I must say, Dawn for some reason had cupcakes and my GOD the one she gave me was good. ) My mental fog allowed me to perform some activities which I usually find distasteful. Generally I procrastinate the yucky stuff, but I find that either insufficient sleep or a really solid cold is enough to protect me from the feelings of rage I usually get when I have to deal with certain things. So assuming I'm alert on Tuesday, I will at least have the satisfaction of knowing that my zombie self took on some of the dirty work.
Dinner tonight was courtesy of the farmer's market - a fragrant tomato sliced up and dusted with garlic salt, one of the sweetest ears of corn I've ever eaten, and a piece of baguette. I'm pretty sure the baguette will not survive the night. No potassium sorbate, or whatever it is that they put into foods so they don't immediately get stale / mold / shrivel into nothingness. Of course, that's why it's so good. Baguettes that can last several days typically have all the flavor and texture of a rubber eraser.
I think that once I've prodded myself into cleaning the litter boxes, I'll make an early night of it. They aren't calling for storms, are they?
Thursday, September 1, 2011
I have Rabies for a few days
It was a beautiful day here, today. One of those days where you put the top down on your car, if you aren't me. If you are me you abhor convertibles because they are noisy and they make you have sunburn and bad hair, and also they have no trunk space. But if you were, say, my husband or my mother in law, you would put the top down. And you would be happy.
I didn't put the top down for the aforementioned reasons, and also because I wasn't driving a convertible. I was driving a monster truck. Technically it was only a normal truck, but if you're used to driving Eddy, my cute little PT Cruiser, it's a monster. You don't sit down, you climb up. There are extra mirrors to check because it's so easy to accidentally crush VWs and other minuscule cars. When the truck hits a bump, the feeling goes on for a long time because it takes a while for vibrations to travel through all that material. What I'm getting at is it's big.
I am actually okay with this. I love Eddy, don't get me wrong. Eddy is just right for me. He can seat several adults at one time, and he has vroom if I need it but is otherwise content to go at normal speeds. And I thought about getting those gangland style bullet decals but then Eddy actually GOT SHOT and now I don't need them. Eddy and I are mega cool.
But Rabies... Rabies is on a whole nother level. (Okay, the truck's name is Rabies. I would think that would be obvious.) (Because JD put the dog's tags on the truck's keyring to distinguish it from Eddy's keyring, which is otherwise identical. And last year's rabies tag was on top. Do try to keep up.) There is no way NOT to feel like you are the shiznit when you are driving Rabies. You sit waaay up there over all the other drivers, and when you press the gas pedal Rabies makes this low rumble, like "I am the big dog, and you just got too close to my bone. And I'm not going to kill you because I am generous that way, but you had better step off, biyotch." And then Rabies graciously doesn't crush the other cars, although it does take out the occasional curb to subtly reinforce the point that it is larger and heavier than everything else in its environment.
JD claims Rabies is female but I am not feeling it.
I seem to have gotten off the point about it being a nice day.
After I dropped Eddy off at the garage (Eddy was making undignified squeaky noises) and rumbled in to work with Rabies, I got the opportunity to walk around. If it were December, I'd have driven. It's the first of September, however, and the air was gentle and the sky was blue. I went for a walk.
You know how when you go for a walk on a really fine day, it feels like you're floating a little bit? Like the sun is a big warm cat rubbing on you? How it smells like all the good things in the world are growing right near by, and there is not even a possibility of poison ivy or skunks? That's how today was.
If you know how that is, you might understand why I'm a long distance hiker.
After I went to the other building and did the inventory task I had to do there (which involved being in a tiny, windowless room in which everything is coated in an unhealthy grainy black dust) I strolled on back to my office. I was appreciating at an intensity level of 8. It's not really safe to appreciate at a higher intensity than that if there's traffic around. Although today's drivers were being pretty considerate so I could have gone for a 9.
I was enjoying the grass growing, and the particular way the leaves were hanging off the trees, and the bouncy way the squirrels were going about their business. And then I rounded the corner and saw my building.
My building is not a pretty building. It is exceedingly utilitarian. Any possible beauty which might have been imparted by its one original saving grace, which was neatness, has been neutralized by dead grass, equipment lying around, safety tape tied haphazardly around the equipment, and the obvious afterthought of a high bay garage having been turned into a low bay garage. Goodness but it's ugly.
I stared up at my building and tried to think of something positive about it. And I thought "Well, it's strong. It provides shelter and it keeps the rain out." That was the best I could do.
But you know what? Being strong and providing shelter is a beautiful thing all on its own.
I didn't put the top down for the aforementioned reasons, and also because I wasn't driving a convertible. I was driving a monster truck. Technically it was only a normal truck, but if you're used to driving Eddy, my cute little PT Cruiser, it's a monster. You don't sit down, you climb up. There are extra mirrors to check because it's so easy to accidentally crush VWs and other minuscule cars. When the truck hits a bump, the feeling goes on for a long time because it takes a while for vibrations to travel through all that material. What I'm getting at is it's big.
I am actually okay with this. I love Eddy, don't get me wrong. Eddy is just right for me. He can seat several adults at one time, and he has vroom if I need it but is otherwise content to go at normal speeds. And I thought about getting those gangland style bullet decals but then Eddy actually GOT SHOT and now I don't need them. Eddy and I are mega cool.
But Rabies... Rabies is on a whole nother level. (Okay, the truck's name is Rabies. I would think that would be obvious.) (Because JD put the dog's tags on the truck's keyring to distinguish it from Eddy's keyring, which is otherwise identical. And last year's rabies tag was on top. Do try to keep up.) There is no way NOT to feel like you are the shiznit when you are driving Rabies. You sit waaay up there over all the other drivers, and when you press the gas pedal Rabies makes this low rumble, like "I am the big dog, and you just got too close to my bone. And I'm not going to kill you because I am generous that way, but you had better step off, biyotch." And then Rabies graciously doesn't crush the other cars, although it does take out the occasional curb to subtly reinforce the point that it is larger and heavier than everything else in its environment.
JD claims Rabies is female but I am not feeling it.
I seem to have gotten off the point about it being a nice day.
After I dropped Eddy off at the garage (Eddy was making undignified squeaky noises) and rumbled in to work with Rabies, I got the opportunity to walk around. If it were December, I'd have driven. It's the first of September, however, and the air was gentle and the sky was blue. I went for a walk.
You know how when you go for a walk on a really fine day, it feels like you're floating a little bit? Like the sun is a big warm cat rubbing on you? How it smells like all the good things in the world are growing right near by, and there is not even a possibility of poison ivy or skunks? That's how today was.
If you know how that is, you might understand why I'm a long distance hiker.
After I went to the other building and did the inventory task I had to do there (which involved being in a tiny, windowless room in which everything is coated in an unhealthy grainy black dust) I strolled on back to my office. I was appreciating at an intensity level of 8. It's not really safe to appreciate at a higher intensity than that if there's traffic around. Although today's drivers were being pretty considerate so I could have gone for a 9.
I was enjoying the grass growing, and the particular way the leaves were hanging off the trees, and the bouncy way the squirrels were going about their business. And then I rounded the corner and saw my building.
My building is not a pretty building. It is exceedingly utilitarian. Any possible beauty which might have been imparted by its one original saving grace, which was neatness, has been neutralized by dead grass, equipment lying around, safety tape tied haphazardly around the equipment, and the obvious afterthought of a high bay garage having been turned into a low bay garage. Goodness but it's ugly.
I stared up at my building and tried to think of something positive about it. And I thought "Well, it's strong. It provides shelter and it keeps the rain out." That was the best I could do.
But you know what? Being strong and providing shelter is a beautiful thing all on its own.
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