My work is under stress.

My company is going to be sold, no one knows to whom or when, and we already know what our severence packages will be, if applicable, but I have no idea whether it’ll be applicable to me.

I wish that, if I were meant to get laid off, they’d do it RIGHT NOW. But they won’t, of course. They’ll wait until some date in the murky future. Something I can’t control. I’m trying not to want to control it, then.

Last week I wanted to tell you guys a bunch of stuff about my work and all the extreme, literal-national-news-type drama that’s going on, and all the misconceptions and the un-fair-ities, and my giant mission to make people understand what’s really going on, and the media distortions, and how much it hurts to have one’s hard work disregarded and one’s company’s reputation completely trashed without warrant by all that stuff,

but this week I’m just over it. Which is probably for the best, because I don’t need to get in trouble for blogging about my job.

Toby is going to the vet tomorrow.

He has a jacked-up claw on his right hind leg. The jacked-upped-ness of it has a scientific name that I can’t remember how to spell, but you’ve seen it on humans — especially on their pinky toes. It’s when the nail gets all hard and crusty like a rhinocerous horn, and you can’t even cut it with the clippers anymore.

Poor Toby — he’s had it for a long time, it looks like. I only just realized a couple of nights ago. Now I know why he’s been more and more lethargic. His toenail is sticking out way too far, and it probably bugs him to walk. I don’t think it hurts him, but it most definitely probably bugs him.

I trimmed as much of it as I could with the biggest toenail clippers in the house, and that seemed to help a little. Already, he’s been more mobile and lively. (And evil, but that’s probably just because of the full moon. Starbuck’s more evil, too, and her claws are fine.)

So I’m taking him to the vet tomorrow so they can mess with it. I don’t know if he’s going to need surgery or medicine or just regular professional single-claw trimmings or what. Something in the future that I can’t control. We’ll see.

Things in the future that I should be able to control but am finding it hard to because I have, like, zero personal time lately.

Namely: my writing.

Also: I need to redo this Web site.

That’s all I can say without having stress-related stomach stress.


Today I went to a shopping center in my neighborhood and felt like hitting everyone in it with a two-by-four containing a single rusty nail. From the incompetent punk kids who work at every single retail establishment in this zip code, to the punk kids who perambulate in every shopping center because they have nothing better to do, to the shitty, shitty drivers, to the trollish old women who exist only to give strangers unsolicited ugly looks.

I was cranky. I was bothered. Then I realized, I always get this cranky right before Halloween. And I always get a little fatter, too. And stressed about looking fat in my costume. And preemptively background-stressed about eating or not eating on Thanksgivng and Christmas.

I don’t think it’s all about my weight and eating, mind you…. No, that’s only one part of the annual holiday emotional ferris wheel. (Didn’t want to say “roller coaster,” but you know that’s what I actually meant.)

And… yeah. Here it goes again. Whatever. I’m tired of it. Purposefully refrained from tailgaiting the asshole who’d been tailgating me. Tried really, really hard not to hate every single person. Succeeded in only hating half.

Tomorrow is another day. Another phase, another degree in the sun rays’ refraction. Anohter chance to be a better person. Wish me luck.


I think I should go to sleep now. First I’ll do a few Variety Puzzles from my Dell Variety Puzzle book, and then I’ll go to sleep.


I’m going to be a “pirate vixen.” Josh is going to be a pirate. Rory’s going to be the guy from V for Vendetta. The Guy Fawkes guy, I mean. Tad’s going to be Jesus. Toby’s going to be a cat with a refurbished claw. Starbuck’s going to be a little bitch.

It’s gonna be awesome. We’re gonna have fun.

Leave a comment telling me what you’re going to be for Halloween, if you want. Put a link to your Flickr when you get back your pix.

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Posted in cats, domestic, Halloween, venting, work, writing on 10/15/2008 02:06 am

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