Blogging from a natural-born ranter.
|I got that damn bronchitis AGAIN!!! I'm better now, and the computer is up and running. The house is still a wreck, but I found The Betty Brigade, and what a relief! They sent two girls (young women, really, mid-twenties, but still...), and what a team they are. I never had that much energy in my life. They unpacked, and put away stuff, too! They organize like champs, have truly functional brains (both have science degrees from college), and accomplish more in a day than I could in a month. They even go up and down stairs endlessly. No matter what you tell the movers, boxes still end up two floors away from where they should be.
As the boxes disappear, so do my allergy problems. I found a new doctor already, I had to! She listens, and she seems to think I may have functional brain cells, too! An idiot doctor who will follow my orders is okay in an emergency, but one with brains who listens is worth any price. And female, too, so when I tell her where it hurts, she has one and understands! Now, if I could just stay healthy and never see her again...
I've given up on relating the saga of my drive to the new house in this blog. I will write it up and put a link to it in here, if anybody's interested. We bought a new bed, one of those sleep number deals, and I'm okay with giving up the waterbed. However, my number turns out to be 20, so I wake up in a hollow every morning and have to inflate my side so I can get out. We bought new bedroom furniture, and it should be delivered soon. I've contacted a builder to get a bookcase 35' by 6' built into my office, so some of our over 8,000 volumes (really, no kidding) can be put away one of these days. We bought a new, very fancy barbecue, one of those giant stainless steel monsters, with two side burners, a rotisserie, a smoker, and an infrared thingy; this is Bob's new love. I think it's rather overkill for two steaks or a three pound roast, but he's enjoying it. It will be great when we have summer parties, we can barbecue 30 hamburgers and 15 hotdogs all at the same time. Then again, how often do you need to?
I finally got the hang of diapering the cat, but the cat hasn't gotten into it yet. He doesn't realize he can't run flat out anymore, so he still tries to escape when he sees the fresh diaper coming at him. I stroll over and grab him, and then the real fun begins. Did you know cats don't actually have waists? I had to create a hookemer (technical term), like a garter belt, which attaches to the diaper and his collar. What he really needs is suspenders, but he hasn't got shoulders, either. The fun part was finding a length short enough to keep the diaper on his butt, but long enough not to strangle him. He also doesn't know he's wearing a diaper, so he keeps going to his box. I'm reducing the amount of litter slowly but surely, eventually he'll have an empty box to stand in.
I've also got the hang of cutting tail holes in baby diapers. I did buy some doggie diapers with a pre-cut tail hole, but for one quarter the cost, well, I've got a pair of scissors and some free time while I watch T.V. I did have to work out the location for the tail hole, another thing cats don't have is an inseam. Also, every time I tried to measure from his "back waist" to his "front waist" he peed on the tape measure. By the way, a plastic tape measure still cannot be washed in the dishwasher, the numbers come off. Who knew? Yes, I washed it in the tub with soap first, don't be disgusting! Anyway, the tail hole is in the right spot most of the time now.
The cat does not care for the new bed, he can't get out of the hollow, either, and the new bed is so high he can't jump up. He solves the hollow problem by sleeping on top of me now, not just alongside. We're getting stairs for him, carpeted, of course. Other than that, he's a happy kitty. He is entranced by the lake, he'd never seen so much hideous water in his life. He's not certain it can't get him, either. He's a bit confused by all the boxes in the house, too, but they're going away, at last, and the rest of his furniture is still all here, so he's suspicious, but okay.
I haven't found a vet I really like yet. The one at the local cat clinic seems to be a very unsympathetic dog person; big voice, says we're doing a lot more than she'd do for one of her dogs. So what? The Marmakitty is happy, not in pain, and we can afford it. I'm still looking for another vet.