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suck-ass morning
February 19, 2009
Well, what would you call a too-early awakening, a cut lip that wouldn�t stop bleeding, a painful and inflamed sweat gland blockage, a car encased in ice, accidentally locking the keys in the car while trying to thaw it out, forgetting the "treat day" treats, and negotiating slick roads combined with crazy drivers who all acted like there wasn�t any ice at all?
Yesterday wasn�t all shits and giggles, either. Not entirely bad, but certainly less-than-stellar.
The good news?
I got a $400.00 bonus.
The bad news?
Uncle Sam got $156.60 of it. Well, to be completely accurate, Uncle Sam got $112.80, and Uncle Jim Doyle got the other $43.80.
The good news?
As a reward for my hard work on the last project, I was entered in a drawing for prizes�with a chance to win such items as gift cards to Target or best Buy, VIP parking for a month, or a pre-paid BP Gas Card.
The bad news?
There was also a chance to win chance to win such items as a fucking cheap-ass bag of second-rate candy. Any guesses what I took home?
Call me bitter, but come on, people! Slave hard enough on a project to shave two years off your life, and your �reward� is a plastic bag full of dollar store candy?
Can you say �slap in the face with a dirty mop?�
And then, o joy of joys, I got to go home to my sick and whiny Spouse, who had called in and was all mine for the evening. Sick. Um, yes. The kind of sick where you can�t get off the couch or get dressed or do chores or go to work�but you can still have a big old appetite. Well enough to want dinner, too sick to cook it. Or clean up after. (I�ve been the same kind of sick�but if I wanted food, I would have to by-gum cook it myself.)
So, despite the fact that I was reeeeeeeeally in need of a quiet evening to myself, and a chance at maybe, finally, getting to actually visit and read and enjoy some of my favorite websites (for the first time in weeks)�
I spent the evening cooking, cleaning, doing laundry, and coddling him.
Hmmm�Can any of this be related to that cat (black in color) that sauntered out into traffic directly in front of me yesterday?
Doubtful. Even if I was superstitious about such things, my Scots-Irish-English side was raised to consider black cats to be good luck. In fact, we had several when I was growing up. And it always seemed like the only bad luck around them was directed at they themselves. They all seemed to meet untimely�and sometimes sordid�ends.
(To a certain Mr. J. Brown of Iowa: I will curse you till my dying day for your brutal murder of my darling little Liza) Hit and runs claimed Mitten and Licorice when I was little, and later, a great cat called Sixto Lezcano. Sixto was so named because A) I was a big Milwaukee Brewers fan and B) he had six toes on each front paw, and I had a weird sense of humor.
I�m a cat person, I miss my kitties, and I would love to own a cat again someday. And I always feel a twinge of guilt about that, because I�d have to somehow lose the Spouse in order for it to happen.
And it�s not that I don�t adore my dogs. I just really love cats, too. And turned out to be harder than I had anticipated, 25-some-odd years ago, to give them up for love.
I had to go grocery shopping after work. Tomorrow is game night, and I plan on taking over dinner to feed my impoverished friends. They have been playing it pretty close lately (no, I haven't been paid back yet, but then, I told her to pay her other debts before she worried about me), and they don't get many good, solid meals.
I had to figure out something that was crockpot-friendly, since their oven doesn't work, and I wanted something hearty, with leftovers they can get another meal out of. So I'm making a sort of Italian casserole--baked (crocked?) penne rigate with ground beef, red sauce, and some mozz and parm mixed in. A tossed salad and grossini breadsticks to go with. I even picked up a 2-litre of R.C., since they've had to give up pop on their budget. No dessert, though--I have a budget too, you know.
But I do need to splurge on one thing tomorrow, provided I can get in. Damn, do I suddenly need a haircut and wax. My hair and brows have really exploded into shagginess this week. I sure hope she's got a spot free for tomorrow afternoon.
Reading: "Expoit of Death" by Dell Shannon. One of her later (1983) Luis Mendoza novels. And "Frequent Hearses", by Edmund Crispin. Brilliantly executed, but dense, prose.
Surfing: Emerald City. Another vintage costume jewelry dealer. The site is full of interesting pieces.
Listening: Quite the mix: Smokey Robinson & The Miracles, New Order, Arcade Fire, Shawn Colvin, Haircut 100.
At Random: click here
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