I have realized tin these past three days that I'm a huge alcoholic pussy. (Doesn't that bring a lovely visual to your mind??) Yesterday I was saying to myself (and anyone else who would listen): "Dang, my life is like the movie Airport...'dammit, I sure picked the wrong week to quit drinking!'"'
And it's true.
My department is moving to a new office on Friday, and my cat is dying. Not to mention that my house is a mess, I don't get enough exercise, and I allow my hatred of George Bush to destroy at least two minutes of my (very valuable) life every single day. Like throwing money down the toilet.
But the most important issues are the
Cat: diabetes, kidney issues, and arthritis, and he's 19 and he poops under the desk and can't pee and has to be given fluids so that he doesn't just wither away on the living room floor like a beeve in the desert sun. And, as is dictated by the evilness that just might possibly be George Bush, of course he's totally mentally perky and cute and loves us all with every creaky bone in his wasted body. I feel like someone is ripping my heart out every time I think of the decision I have to make. He is the only living creature that has managed to stay by my fickle asshole side for more than 17 years. This includes my parents and that pesky alien Kazoo.
and the
Move: what a logistical nightmare. Desks, chairs, movers, painters, boxes, tape, too much crap, NO BEER NO FUCKING BEER FUCK FUCK FUCK, and people who are unhappy with their new work spaces. Bah humbug. It's supposed to snow on Friday, because God hates me (no, wait...
...God LOVES me!! ANyhoo, snow and rain and probably the moving guys don't speak English, so how in the hell am I going to make them understand that they have to take stuff down the elevator, out the front door, load it in the truck, and then drive it around to the alley because they have to unload it all at our new building (which is next door) but they aren't allowed to use the front door of that building because the steps there are soapstone and they might get chipped?!??!?! Shit dag.
11 April 2007
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1 comment:
That truly sucks about the cat, we had to put our cat down about 4 years ago because of lung cancer. Was not a good time @ all. And on top of it, the vet staff managed to sucker us into taking two more of the furry little bastards that someone had left. Assholes. Hope that the move goes well for you tomorrow and doesn't cause you too much stress.
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