I am offering up my blood to be tested...to see if I qualify to be a bone marrow doner tomorrow morning. If I do, I will save someone's life, but people will drill into my bones. They say it is a very painful process. But they also say it is rare for strangers to match strangers. It's a gamble. At least if I don't qualify I can say I did what I could. Watch this catch up to me ten years from now. I get a phone call when I'm thiry-one saying, "Come on down! We've found a man with leukemia in Florida who needs your marrow!"
*Cringe*
Thankfully, the Shadow is going to do it with me so I'm not alone in this. I will feel bad if he matches someone though. He will be in pain after the doctors suck out his marrow and it will be all my fault for getting him into it...
Last week when I was going to give blood, I took a lady's order and noticed when she opened her wallet that she had this huge card that said "NO BLOOD". I said something about it since I was going to give blood, and she said she wasn't to give or take blood. I thought I'd drop the subject because what if the reason was because she had HIV or something?
Well I finished out the order and she paused, and decided to tell me why. She said she was a Jehovah's Witness and they believe that blood is sacred. She said that there are alternatives to blood, and that you don't have to have real blood to survive. That there are other ways to increase your blood volume, though it is more expensive. I'm still not quite sure what to make of that. I would think that hospitals ask for blood donations and have drives because they need it. If pouring other liquids into someone were as easy, why would they be driving around seeking donations? And it certainly cannot be as healthy as real blood - whatever the substitute may be. I wonder if they are allowed to donate kidneys or bone marrow? Is bone marrow sacred too? Would a Jehovah's Witness let their brother die because their marrow was too sacred to be donated?
Today I worked all day. It was a very very long day at work because I really wanted to get home, but time just kept dragging on bit by bit. At one thirty I kept thinking "I don't want to be here. I don't want to be here..." Then I realized that with at least an hour and a half more, that sort of thought pattern would only make me feel more cranky. So I got busy and tried not to look at the clock. After a horribly long long time (five hours) I was finally released into the wild.
I rode home and thought "What a beautiful day!". I stopped by my mailbox, sent my credit card payment off, and greeted the postman (I forget his name). It must have been 75 or so degrees out with the sun shining bright and a somewhat cool breeze. I ran into two kids as I reached my apartment and they begged for me to draw them pictures. I was, of course, delighted by the fact that they like my art so much, and agreed to draw them one each real quick. I went up to fetch my sketchpad, and they unabashedly followed me right into my messy apartment. These children were very inquisitive: Why is your place messy? Can you draw an elephant? What's that? What's this? Can you draw me a killer whale? What do you do for fun? Why? Where did you go? Why? Can we play chess? Can we play games? Can you draw me two more animals? Can you draw me three more?
So then, rather than going down and quick-sketching two animals and being done with it, I found myself drawing seven animals and then sitting and watching these two children (who had made themselves quite at home)play nearly every SNES game I own. Finally around 4:15 I said they should probably go and they did. They're nice little kids, but they sure loved to talk and ask questions. Many many questions.
About that time the roach got online and we talked a bit as I ate my sandwich from work, then I called him and we talked for five hours. To actually hear him speak aloud was very odd. Funny how quickly five hours passed when I was talking in comparison to five hours when I was working...
I did it! I'm an official bone marrow donation volunteer. I even have a card. And it will last me until I am 61. I don't know what's so magical about that particular age, but that's the age they've decided bone marrow expires I guess, heh heh.
So this morning Eric the Shadow picked me up and took me to the Holiday Inn instead of Sammi picking me up and taking me to church. We had to walk up the stairs five stories since the elevator wasn't functional, and we found the set-up on the roof. It was interesting. I felt bad that I couldn't remember any friends or relative's addresses and phone numbers. I remembered my mom's address except for the zip code, but not her phone number. I ended up putting the Shadow as my other emergency contact, even though I don't know that we'll be staying in touch until I'm 61. We both had our ring fingers pricked and milked (It took me 5-6 minutes and it took the him maybe two to fill all five circles). Then he drove me straight to church and we talked about laughter on the way.
After the sermon (I came in right after they took up the offering which was okay since I didn't have any money with me), I found Sammi and we went to Fudruckers. Sammi got a chicken sandwich and thick-cut fries and was mad that she payed nine dollars for a meal that didn't even include a drink. She split her sandwich with me and the lettuce made it all slippy and slidey and I dripped grease all over my army green skirt. I saw birds all over looking for crumbs so I threw one to them, then we were kinda chilled in the shade (we were eating outside) so Sammi and I moved out chairs back a few feet so we could bask in the sun. It was great. Though I must say, the water there was some of the worst water I've ever tasted (except for the water in the public pool in Arkansas).
So then we went to a nursing home and sang for the elderly. It was a really depressing atmosphere despite the cheery flowers and pictures all over. The most depressing thing about it for me was that nearly all the folks I tried to talk to were incoherent and seemed to not be "all there". And then I felt rotten for those who were coherent because the nurses tend to treat them like babies. How degrading. As long as I have something to say about it, I'll never put my mom in a nursing home. And I hope I never end up in one. I'd go nuts. Unless they gave me a large-screen computer, hee hee hee. I think I'd paint pictures on the walls with my liquified food and sing at the top of my lungs, and then spontaneously make a run for it when people weren't looking. And if anyone talked to me like a baby I'd glare at them and say, "Hello??? I am an intelligent human being who has been alive four times as long as you have. Have a little respect missy!" Or something like that.
Then Sammi took me grocery shopping and I ran and got a black and white roll of film. I think it will be fun to use up. I was mad that I forgot my undeveloped zoo pictures.
I went home and RPed with the Roach until Sammi came to take me away to the night college group thing. I did manage to get all my frozen items into the freezer first though.
(Sorry about the handwriting in today's comic. I was really tired so it's really sloppy. I guess it didn't help to use charcoal either.)
I woke up at 9:30 when I was supposed to be leaving. I leapt out of bed and ran around in a panic, then jogged to work and wasn't really that late. Five minutes. No one noticed or cared. Maybe that's why my motivation to wake up on time is not as high as it should be.
It was a long day at work. I wasn't hungry when it was time for my break at 2 (could have had something to do with running and frothing up zucchini bread in my stomach), so I just had a small soup. I learned how to say spoon in Spanish from Maggie and Vanessa and I had a stressful hour of trying to get 60 special flippies made (pre-layed out Italian Special meats and cheese that can just be flipped onto the bun when needed) before the lunch rush (we got 47 made). In the afternoon I yakked at Paul nonstop about Redwall and Watership Down (hey, he brought it up) until the phone rang and he escaped into the office. The Shadow sliced onions and wept as did I though they were only a few. I asked him if he liked cutting onions more than washing dishes and he said "No." Then I asked him if he liked cutting onions more than mopping and he thought about it and said, "Yes."
I spent the last hour of work in deep contemplative thought and then it was time to go home. The Shadow drove up but could'nt pull up to my building because a bunch of cop cars were blocking the way. So he let me out a few buildings down. I walked by and thought at first that they were arresting our malnourished neighbor 'friend', but then I thought I saw glasses and a more feminine face and so I think it was a woman (Neighbor David has long hair too). I still have no clue what happened or why she was being escorted in handcuffs, and I suppose I'll never know. Yes, I think I'll be moving away from these apartments when my lease runs out in June.
As soon as I walked in the door I turned on my computer so I could talk to the Roach (the true highlight of my day) and pretty much stayed there typing away and eating the last of my cookies and zucchini bread from Mom for my supper. It was great. Now it's 3 a.m. and I must get up at 6 a.m. so...I guess I'll get at least a little bit of sleep before a long long day at school. I wish I could just take it off. I mean...it is my birthday after all. Oh well. Must keep up the good grades. Maybe when I get home and go to the bible study they will give me pumpkin pie or something. Hopefully not liquor. I may be 21, but I don't plan on drinking. What a dull long day it will be. Bah, doesn't matter. Tari is sending me something and I am going to talk to my Mom and the Roach and that's enough to make anyone's day brighter.
Oh yeah - Hey Roach you were right! "Cadence to Arms" is the BEST! I love that song!
I'm going to cry...
They say I'm old enough to be executed if I kill somebody now. No more "But I'm just a kid" excuses for me! There's a bright ray of sunshine on my gray day.
So how was my birthday you might ask? Was it happy? Well I ended up wearing all black. Folks at school said I looked like a poet/artist whereas Jeanie asked whether I was in mourning. Oh well. I liked the classy look the beret and immitation leather jacket gave me. Wee...yeah, fool all those people into thinking I'm a stylin' Scotsdalian...oh wait - that could be bad. Lots of creepy weird people on the bus. On the way home there was one guy who kept spontaneously speaking to no one inparticular (perhaps a line from some rap song?), yet he had no earphones on...
Another guy started talking to me with a grin as the bus slowed to a stop. He sounded like this: "*mutter mutter* Here's my ticket stop! *mutter* die refused to go underground!" I asked, "Die?" and he said "yeah!" and then got off the bus. I had no idea what he was talking about. Mannie would probably say he was on drugs. The last bus I rode had a stinky man I recognized as the drunken singer from last week. He is a strange strange man with a neck that reminds me of a giant wrinkley cigar and his hands look like they're boiled or something. He didn't sing this time. Just stared straight ahead. I don't like riding the bus when it gets dark.
I stopped at Cousins since Paul said I could have a free birthday sandwich. They made it "for here" instead of "to go", but I was too polite to ask for it to go. Consequently I was late getting home and missed my ride to bible study. But before I left on my flat-tired bicycle, the Shadow followed me out and went to his vehicle saying he had a present for me. He handed me a video - "The Boondock Saints." The Roach has recommended this one to me as has Evan (who, incidently, was raving about how awesome it is this last Sunday night). I was very happy to receive it!
Jeanie met me at home and wished me a happy birthday and wondered why I hadn't told her it was my birthday today (she'd found out from Sammi). I don't know why I didn't tell her. I guess she's done so much for me, I didn't want to make her feel like she had to give me a present or something. Since I missed my ride, though, she offered to drive me over. It was very nice of her. I got there and "rested my eyes" throughout the lesson while Ann-helena and Sammi debated predestination. We prayed for each other then as I was putting on my shoes to go, Sammi came out with a gargantuan bouquet of monster flowers and a big ole' box of graham crackers. Jess sung happy birthday to me and then they drove me home. They kept trying to swat me on the butt too, which annoyed me to no end. They found out a few weeks ago how much I dislike having my rear slapped and thus take any opportunity they see to do so because they think it's funny to make me growl and scowl and walk backwards. They had a good excuse to go after me today though I guess.
I found Roach at home and we had a good ole time talking Ninja turtles and immitating Bruce Cambell's Army of Darkness lines. A few other people sent me cards and wished me a happy birthday over instant messaging and email. And now I'm extremeley exhausted.
G'night all you young whippersnappers.
This terrible eye-rolling pun of a picture is dedicated to the Fett side of the Annoyed Cockroach, who ought to have a good laugh every now and then. He also is constructing a marvelous story.
Today I jogged to work eating a banana. At work my tailbone and lower back started to really hurt and it even hurt to walk. I started to wonder if something was truly wrong with me, and started to worry since I have no health insurance still. As the day wore on, though, it improved and by the end I was feeling just dandy. I figure it must just be from carrying a giant bookbag all day yesterday and riding on a bike with a flat tire and a poor seat (the best way to experience every bump you ride over).
Carol gave us turkey to leave out for the feral cat family outside, and then the Shadow drove me home. He told me about how in high school his teacher had asked if he liked Tom Petty and he'd said "No." This was during the time (some of you may remember), that Petty was very popular (Last Dance with Mary Jane). The teacher remarked to the class incredulously that Eric did not like Tom Petty and suddenly everyone was asking him why and glaring daggers. It surprised him that the entire class could turn on him so quickly over something so trivial. I agreed. How absurd.
I entered my house and the door jammed up against a pile of old newspapers and junk mail I've been meaning to throw away (hence its placement next to the door) I said, "What? Oh yeah...I forgot. My house is a pig sty." and then I continued to talk to myself as I moved to turn on lights and such. "So what do I do? Clean it up? Noooooo! I turn on the computer!" And I did. I had meant to call the Roach tonight, but by the time I was home it was too late, for his parental units had already turned in for the night, and they do not like being woken up by the telephone. So I had to resort to instant messaging. I managed in between chatting with the bug, to call my sister, take out the garbage, sweep the floor, and run new water for my stinkin' decomposing dishes. Then I felt some semblence of accomplishment. After a certain point, I left the dishes to "soak" (aka abandoned them to sit for several more days) sat back and talked to Fett for a few hours.
And I'm very glad that I did.
Power to you, Fett!
*Listens to raging bagpipes*
(Oh, and in case you didn't get it, the pun is "A Brush with Death")
Well now. That was an interesting day. Somewhat lopsided, but interesting never-the-less.
I basically went to school, watched a movie on serial killers and took a quiz (one to two page essay) in psych. I then bought a pretzel at Cuban Pete's for lunch because it was cheap and somewhat filling. I then commenced wasting time on the internet filling up the Roach's inbox with ammendments on my first email and viewing nifty Stan Winston creatures. Me and this guy I didn't even know who was sitting next to me stared googley-eyed at the incredible Trakk animation (check out those guy's rippling muscles! Now that's some marvelous 3-D animation!) and then I ran to class. We watched some bad acting and labeled the actors according to DiSC profiles, then I stayed after a bit talking to my teacher about the mean girl I served at Cousins yesterday and she told me about problems she'd had as a waitress (spilling a fancy alcoholic beverage in a customer's face) and we both laughed.
I met the Roach online and Bing and his parents offline. I showed his parents my Brush with Death and it took them a while to figure it out, but then they thought it was funny. The rest of the day was pretty much spent helping Bing and staring up into the webcams.
I would have prefered ice cream, but I had to have an apple. Poo.
Mia teased me about posing for the cameras all the way up to Bible study and we both laughed about it. The study went well and afterwards I didn't get any homework done because I kept talking to the Roach, hee hee, and Stacy kept talking to me about political atrosities (Fun!). Stacy is cool. He says his mom makes a killer sweet potato pie.
The toucan pic is a project I did for my 2D Computer Graphics class. The first picture is the original, and the second is a black and white version that I colored. There are some very subtle differences if you look closely.
Down with cellular fickleness! ARGH! I kill it because it commits suicide continually. I hate it but I need it! Why can't I get a decent phone conversation??? Because I'm cheap and won't turn on my roaming feature, hee hee hee!
No way I'm going to pay 50 cents a minute every time my phone company is unable to connect me properly. Foo!
And why do I say "foo!" continually you might ask? Because it was used in Crime and Punishment and I like the sound of it. And I also like "Giving the fig" (a hilarious gesture of insult) from Dante's Inferno (though I never actually read it). Half the fun of that one is people never know it's even supposed to be an insult.
So what happened today you might ask? How am I? How is Jo doin'?
Well...my hands are raw...close to bleeding, because I must continually get my hands wet at work and then they get all chapped and eventually crack open and bleed. I did get home today in time to put on smelly lotion though before they started to bleeeeeeed.
A man is going to try to capture and tame the feral cats. We gave him tuna to aid in the effort. It'd be good to give them a good home away from the freeway.
Saturdays are the longest days I work. Not literally. No no no - Saturdays are literally four and a half hours shorter than my other work days, but they are psychologically tormenting to me. Before today I didn't really know why I always felt so grouchy and peeved when I worked Saturdays, but now I understand! It's my pathological compulsion to never leave things unfinished once I start them. And Saturdays are one unfinished project after another.
See, when I'm just a cashier, I take orders, I hand out food, and then repeat the process continually over the course of the day until there are hardly any customers and I have time to complete other projects (like refilling the mustard - Woooo!). SATURDAYS, however, I start making flippies, and customers come. I must put down my meat, take off my gloves, and go help them, then wash my hands, put new gloves on, and start again. This wouldn't be that bad if it weren't for the fact that almost every time I put the gloves on a new customer would walk in. I tell you it's a sad sad waste of plastic gloves, and can be extremely frustrating. But then that's not all. Paul tells me to do something, and I start to do it, then he tells me to do something else. He'll have me start up to three projects at a time, and I must leave each unfinished to do the other and all unfinished when a customer walks in the door. On regular days when customers walk in while I'm working on flippies or checking the lobby, the sandwich maker will take the order and allow me to reach a stopping point. But for some reason, this doesn't happen on Saturdays. I'm not sure why.
Work is not all that bad though. I mean, it's not like everyone's viscious and plotting how to make my life more miserable. In fact, they are all very kind to me and I enjoy their company. Sometimes Paul will treat me like a friend and carry on a conversation or ask my opinion on some philosophical matter, and then he calls me Jo. But sometimes (when we're busy) he will only treat me like an employee and then he calls me by my full name. It's a mysterious parallel. I know that if he calls me Jo things are casual.
Sometimes I feel like a sort of slave because there's "The Family", "The Boss", and then there are we, the workers, that are always supposed to be doing something, even if the family is just relaxing and having a chat. There's this difference...and inferiority that I'm sure they don't think about. But they DO pay me and so I SHOULD be working the whole time I'm being paid. And since they do own the place they deserve to take breaks and stop working whenever they feel like it. And actually, they do work very hard. Leslie will even be working the day before she is due to have her baby even.
I like my job, and I really like the fact that I am needed and thus will not be fired at someone's whim (in theory). Yet I really would like to get into something that I can pour my artistic ability into. I want it to be a GOOD thing that I hate unfinished projects.
My tire is still flat and my pump won't air it up.
My dishes are still not done.
No, the bunny doesn't have anything to do with anything. I just thought I might do something non-dark and non-violent since more than one person has complained about my dark art. See, I CAN do happy cutsie stuff. Sort of. Okay it's more of a muppet rabbit - but I did resist adding a row of sharp teeth. Heh heh heh.
In church we had a time of prayer where random people would just stand up and tell God what they're thankful for if they felt the pull to do so. I was terribly distressed because I really didn't want to shout out something for the entire congregation to hear, even though I kept thinking of what I might say I was thankful for. I kept wondering whether I was being a coward and fearing people more than God, and thinking that it was bad for me to just sit there with my trap clamped shut, afraid to look out of place. "But no," I thought, "I wouldn't be out of place, because all these other people are doing it. So why am I afraid?" I decided that I was afraid I'd mess up and not speak loud enough or garble what I wanted to say. I also kept thinking of Matthew 6:6 that says to pray in private to God and not make a show of it (since it is, after all, between you and God, not you and others). But I knew that if I spoke out, it would be to prove that I wasn't ashamed, not because I was showing off. Well before I could even get close to working up the nerve or even coming to any sort of decision, the time for thanksgiving ended and we launched into another song. I was relieved in a sense, but also frustrated with myself, unsure of whether I was a coward or not.
After church I stopped at the library to find a book on hell for my bible study, and spoke to the lady there about how to find answers. Sammi took me to Chilly's (I've never been there before) and I had some clam chowder. There was all sorts of crappy junk lining the shelves and walls...old toys, trinkets, sculptures, wagons and planes, and many photographs of groups of strangers. I didn't like the atmosphere, but I thought I'd wait and taste the food before passing any judgement. The food was good, but I found sand in my clams. I suppose this is a common thing. After all, they do live on the bottom of the ocean IN the sand and that's how pearls are made.
Ivan and Christen discussed what names they had in mind for future offspring, and Christen said she wanted "skittle" boobs. Renee kept laughing at my facial expressions. Christen and I fought a few seconds with our steak knives, and then we ordered and I got an IBC rootbeer (another suggestion by the Roach).
Sammi got another butt slap in after we walked out of Chilly's and I told her not to do it again, but she could tell I wasn't really angry. I don't threaten well I suppose. We picked up Isaac to take him to Costco (to purchase snacks for the bible study tonight). Sammi asked if I wanted to come, but I said I'd rather go home (since I expected a call and wanted to converse with the Roach). Unfortunately when we reached my apartment, I discovered that my glasses case was not with me (I had no pockets and I despise purses, so I just crammed my keys, chapstick, and money in my glasses case). So I was locked out. Sammi laughed triumphantly that I had to spend the day with her after all. We went to Costco and I was bummed because I couldn't even bring my film to deposit. I had fun consuming free samples, though, and was delighted by a gigantic stuffed burmese mountain dog. We dropped Isaac and the goodies off, then Sammi took me home to see if I could weasel a key from the people at the office. We got it and went back to Costco to develop my film and to Frys to make a copy of the key.
Finally I got home. I got online and was terribly disappointed to see that the Roach was not there. I heard this horrible grunting vibrating sound that I've been hearing for weeks. I decided long ago that it must be the water pipes or something in the walls, and have become accustomed to ignoring it. This time, however, it sounded unusually nearby...as if it were right next to me. I dug around in the mess on my table and found my cell phone. Oops. So that's what's been making that noise throughout the last month. I never realized so many people were trying to call me. And I ignored them all! Hahahahahaha! Whoops...
I figured since I was expecting a call, it must have been Tari vibrating my phone. I called and we talked for a good forty minutes or so and then I called Mom because she had left a worried voicemail asking if I was alive. My ride arrived late, but the Roach never showed.
I found my missing glasses case in the library at church and then after the evening service we went to the bible study. I brought my portfolio at Isaac's request and Ivan really liked it. He wants me to draw a monster for him. Maybe one of these days when I have time (ha). I kept nodding off while Bryce read about some historical monk who wrote on God's love. I didn't mean to, but I was so tired...and the monk's writings were not exactly an edge-of-your-seat thriller. That was just the latter end of the evening though. I wasn't sleeping before that.
Jess drove Ann-helena and I home. Once I walked through the door I dove for the computer saying, "Please still be here, please still be here!" And was thrilled to see that indeed, the Roach was still awake despite our accursed time difference. We had a nice chat about beverages, meat, and movies, and then finally decided to sleep. I stayed up, however, to work further on the secret project. Now it is time for me to collapse into an unconscious heap. Goodnight!
Sticking me in the back room with onions being sliced can be compared to those horrible animal experiments where they drip shampoo in rabbits' eyes while holding them open with tong-like instruments. It was inhumane. I've learned an important lesson. From now on I'm going to find something to do when I think I'm finished with everything. Whether it's straightening napkins, stirring soup, or arranging the plastic forks to all face the same direction, it will at least keep me from being put in the back room with toxic onion fumes again.
I'm so exhausted. I need to do laundry. I need to do dishes. I need to write my paper, set my schedule, draw my commissions, purchase a bus ticket, purchase health insurance, and watch Lord of the Rings, The Boonedock Saints, and X-men Evolution. I really need to clean my apartment too. I haven't had a stay-at-home day in ages and it shows something terrible. I try to make up for my loss of freedom by staying up late, but now even that is catching up to me. College is only supposed to get harder too. I really need to find a better way to make money and get to school. This two-hour time gap for the bus before and after school plus nine-hour work days is really wearing me to a nub. This is my typical weekday:
Get up, run to the bus stop/work while cramming something edible into my mouth, work/attend class all day, get home around 7, eat something, talk to the roach and draw until 2 a.m., then collapse in utter exhaustion. Why do I feel the compulsion to draw at 1 and 2 in the morning? Because I'm a wereartist, of course. No, really it's the only time I have to do it if I'm going to, and I feel I must because I love it and it is worth it.
Last night, however, I drew in my sleep for the first time ever. See those little peppers in the second panel of the comic? They don't make much sense, do they? Well I didn't realize that I was drawing little peppers in my comic until I was on the third one, then I sorta woke up and wondered what the heck I was doing. I've never experienced falling asleep with my eyes open before let alone sleep-drawing. How bizarre is that?
At work Paul is laying down the law now that he has hired two new cashiers (non-family members). I am no longer embraced as an equal or even a friend when we are all together, but rather one of the hired hands. He seems to be more strict and less friendly all of a sudden. So much so that I was starting to wonder if I've done something wrong. Maybe I'm not supposed to accept tips from grateful customers like I did the other day? Perhaps it is because I wore jeans that one day instead of khakis?
Ahhhhh....pffffffff......
I'm annoyed by the fact that people say "A-sah-jee-oh" bread when it is plainly spelled A-S-I-A-G-O. Are there really that many dyslexic people in this world? There is no "I" between the "G" and the "O"!
Okay I admit, I'm just looking for more to complain about. It's probably not the best attitude to have. I'll try to stop now.
Foo, I need my Fett fix.
(Coo-coo-cachoo, Mrs. Robinson...)
I say, indeed I say
I have not written in a day
Cause there's nothing which to write
'Cept I stay up late at night
Get my schoolin in the day
And sell subs to earn my pay.
Exericise
Would be wise
But early I shant rise
Wish to keep
All the sleep
I can seize
light or deep.
Trek in morning
through the dust
In the evening
Shadow trust
Chat with Roaches
Sip warm drink
Eat some crackers
sketch with ink.
Time it flies
Flower dies
Carrots mold
I get old.
Miss the cold.
Well I had a superb Thanksgiving yesterday. Made carmel apples and helped prepare things...arranged the veggie tray, stirred the dressing...then helped to eat it all. I was full before my first helping was gone. It was great. Then I managed a slice of pumpkin pie which was just as good as anything else if not better. I do love a good pumpkin pie. The females washed and cleaned while the males sat and watched football.
Renee and I talked and she sent me home with quite a few leftovers. I was deeply impressed. The pumpkin pie, of course, was the first to go (aside from that one midnight croissant).
Today I had to work, however. I slept in because I didn't have to work until later. I caught the Roach online before I had to go and I decided to change my phone plan so that we could talk more. Now I have 3000 minutes available per month (instead of 1000), but only during evenings and weekends. We both thought this to be an excellent idea, but I think it may not be such a great plan once the time change takes place again. But that's not until April 7th though, so I'll enjoy my 3000 until then, heh heh heh.
Yes indeeeeeed.
So at work I found out that the mother feral cat is dead and so is one of her two kittens, though the other was rescued mere minutes before I got there. I felt really bad. It was really sad to think that that had happened to the momma cat and two babies I'd watched romping around the trees just last week at the bus stop. Becky said that the one kitten they rescued from the dumpster was skeletal and covered with flies. Disgusting even. She took it home anyway, however, and to the vet. After a bath they discovered its true color (black and white instead of gray) and then it consumed great quantities of milk and curled up next to the fireplace purring. I hope she survives. It's really too bad the others didn't. I keep thinking that if only that man had captured them as he had intended that day, the one kitten at least wouldn't be dead, and this other wouldn't be emanciated. Oh well. Feral cats are hard to catch when they're not starving or dying.
It's going to be so lovely to go home for Christmas. No worries about bills, schoolwork or safety. I think I stress too much here on my own. I need to just...take it easy. Trust God to take care of me.
Take my daily Fettative.
