Dish
Travis thinks They shouldn’t be allowed to say “swing your Grapenuts” on the radio. Magic 99 is a terrible station anyway. On the way into town from dropping the cats off at the vet today, I passed the doublewide on Airport Road that serves as office and studio, right when disco hour was starting. I contemplated arson.
I guess it’s fair to say that I am a much better employee when I don’t have access to the Internet. I think that’s true of a lot of people. I wouldn’t be a very good recruit to the ranks of the self-employed. You’ll find no self-discipline here.
I got my cats back tonight, paid more than a month’s rent (which is astonishingly cheap) for both to have their teeth cleaned and get a cocktail of vaccines, their first in six years. (You’d never believe my rent. Not if you don’t live in Wyoming.) It shouldn’t be such great entertainment to watch them stumble around, back legs crossed and heads lolling, but it is. Before you judge me too harshly, remember that I spent considerable time this evening trying to console two creatures that don’t understand my language and who are inconsolable anyhow. I starved them all night, left them for an hour this morning, came back and stuffed them in a box, drove them out into the country and left them with strangers who poked them with needles. They can’t remember anything after that, but they woke up feeling like crap and their mouths hurt. Then I came and got them, brought them home in the same hated plastic cage, and deposited them on the bed where they lay like dead things. I left them for an hour to go to orchestra, and when I came back I found them sprawled awkwardly on the bathroom floor. Apparently they’ve seen me that way when I’m sick and think it’s the right thing to do. I hope it helped.
Dismal weather is by no means a rare circumstance in March, but this is ridiculous.
I refuse to get the passenger endorsement on my CDL. I wish I knew how to feel about Terri Schiavo. I wish I wasn't constantly bombarded by her name all day. I wouldn't want her to be bombarded by mine if things were the other way around. I’m obsessed with red potatoes. I like the smell of department stores. I know so few things today, except how to calculate the parts per million if you’re adding 90 mg/L of coagulant with a specific gravity of 1.26 into a flow of 1.6329 million gallons of water per day, but that’s not going to help me get through to somebody that’s driving me crazy. I hate that I'm so sensible I can talk myself out of standing up for me. "There's really no point, dear girl. It doesn't matter in the long run." At least the voices in my head are affectionate. A gallon of water weighs 8.34 pounds and there are 7.48 gallons of water in a cubic foot. Make use of that if you can. But just in case you can’t, here’s something that I found extraordinarily entertaining.
I guess it’s fair to say that I am a much better employee when I don’t have access to the Internet. I think that’s true of a lot of people. I wouldn’t be a very good recruit to the ranks of the self-employed. You’ll find no self-discipline here.
I got my cats back tonight, paid more than a month’s rent (which is astonishingly cheap) for both to have their teeth cleaned and get a cocktail of vaccines, their first in six years. (You’d never believe my rent. Not if you don’t live in Wyoming.) It shouldn’t be such great entertainment to watch them stumble around, back legs crossed and heads lolling, but it is. Before you judge me too harshly, remember that I spent considerable time this evening trying to console two creatures that don’t understand my language and who are inconsolable anyhow. I starved them all night, left them for an hour this morning, came back and stuffed them in a box, drove them out into the country and left them with strangers who poked them with needles. They can’t remember anything after that, but they woke up feeling like crap and their mouths hurt. Then I came and got them, brought them home in the same hated plastic cage, and deposited them on the bed where they lay like dead things. I left them for an hour to go to orchestra, and when I came back I found them sprawled awkwardly on the bathroom floor. Apparently they’ve seen me that way when I’m sick and think it’s the right thing to do. I hope it helped.
Dismal weather is by no means a rare circumstance in March, but this is ridiculous.
I refuse to get the passenger endorsement on my CDL. I wish I knew how to feel about Terri Schiavo. I wish I wasn't constantly bombarded by her name all day. I wouldn't want her to be bombarded by mine if things were the other way around. I’m obsessed with red potatoes. I like the smell of department stores. I know so few things today, except how to calculate the parts per million if you’re adding 90 mg/L of coagulant with a specific gravity of 1.26 into a flow of 1.6329 million gallons of water per day, but that’s not going to help me get through to somebody that’s driving me crazy. I hate that I'm so sensible I can talk myself out of standing up for me. "There's really no point, dear girl. It doesn't matter in the long run." At least the voices in my head are affectionate. A gallon of water weighs 8.34 pounds and there are 7.48 gallons of water in a cubic foot. Make use of that if you can. But just in case you can’t, here’s something that I found extraordinarily entertaining.
posted by A at
8:49 PM
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