Linda takes our fat cat, Panga, to work with her. The fangface is really cute; she waits until Linda opens the car door after packing everything in, and then jumps out of the car and trots into the store.
When we get home, we open the car door and wait. And wait....we leave the door open for her to get out.
She just sits on the car seat and yawns at us when we try to coax her into the house.
But she really likes the car, I guess.
Seems like I'm seeing less Hummers around.
I have a viscerally negative reaction to Hummers, always have.
But I saw one parked across from the store the other day, and it was absolutely covered in mud, an inch thick around the wheel wells, splattered up the side of the car, all the way to the roof.
I felt like putting a note on the windshield; Thank you for using the Hummer for the purposes intended.
Then again, I wonder if he tore up the landscape.
Was standing at the refrigerator door with Linda the other day, and looking down at how short she was, and said, "Gee, I wonder what this all looks like from your height." I crouched down, and realized that I was looking UP at the top shelf of the fridge.
Very weird feeling.
Short people, got no reason....
We were at the hospital the other day, got in the elevator with 5 nurses and techs, (3 male, 2 female) One of the nurses was short, about Linda's height. She said, "Short people in front."
So I told the above story about the fridge, and they all just sort of looked at me.
Didn't go over.
Linda laughed after they left the elevator, at least.
My sister, Tina, who we were visiting in the hospital is an amazing verbal storyteller, like my Dad, full of the blarney. Me...not so much.
My sister, Tina, is very ill. Once again, I'm amazed how my family, which is spread to the four winds, rallies around an ill member of the family. And I'm reminded, by not only my parents but by my siblings how short life is, and how quickly things can change.
My reading has slowed to a crawl. It took me over a month to read The Terror, by Dan Simmons. It was an arctic survival (?) story of the Franklin expedition. At first, you think it's the 'supernatural' element that causes their problems, and then you realize it's the expedition members themselves who really cause the chaos.
Great book, a narrative told in a way that details every slow yard of the boat dragging across the ice, every calorie disappearing from the diet. Inexorable. Fascinating. Slow reading.
But the real problem is my working everyday, coming home too tired to do much but turn on the T.V.
Time for one of my periodic paring down of T.V. shows. The networks did about half the work themselves, by eliminating Life, Terminator, and Dollhouse. Battlestar Galactica.
Heroes really isn't worth the effort anymore, and I'm afraid William Pederson was much more important to the dynamics and chemistry of C.S.I than I would've thought.
I've also had it with the political and news shows, again. The left wing trying to get Obama hooked into divisive issues annoy me nearly as much as the right wing on Fox. (Well, maybe one/tenth as much, but still annoyed by idealogical single mindedness.)
Anyway, I've got to find a couple of nights a week to do nothing but read.
Which brings me to the problem of working everyday. Actually, I've enjoyed it. I like being in total control, knowing everything that happens. I'm both a control freak and a workaholic. The only reason I would hire someone is that I know that I probably should -- like taking vitamins, or something.
But I really only want someone one day a week, maybe with the ability to work two or three when I ask. Someone much older, maybe even retired. But someone who at least has a passing acquaintance with the material. Someone who both wants to work, but doesn't need the money and is flexible. Someone who is good with people, and honest.
Someone like Kent. Who works for Linda. I need another Kent. I'm jealous.
3 hours ago