Bloody hell.
Jul. 1st, 2013 07:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
captainsblogApologies if you've seen this rant elsewhere, but. July? Your first-day performance evaluation is in, and it's not pretty. You stand a good chance of not making it through your probationary period and being fired without cause before you even get to the Fourth.
The evidence against you so far:
Despite this morning going better, aminal-wise, than recent days, with Tasha letting me sleep in till past 0430 and then quieting down (mostly) to let me fall back to sleep within an hour? That didn't stop the house phone from ringing within moments of 6 a.m.
Calls at that hour can only mean Bad Things, and this one was: Emily, calling on Cameron's phone, reporting a serious and potentially dangerous bout of nausea and its consequences, including a worry that she was horking up blood.
Doctor Mom took the call, and talked her down, and through it. No, it wasn't blood. Rather, it was a by-product of Red Cheetos. She recommended cold compresses, flat soda, and plenty of rest. All of these seemed to do the trick by 8 or so, by which time Eleanor was at work and I was (barely) (re-)awakening.
Shit then took a holiday for most of the day. A dull but predictable court appearance downtown; a mostly catch-up day with bank statements and time entries; and calls to various clients and opponents to settle down this short week. It was looking good for an early departure from the home office until I noticed that the oldest cat, Tazzer, was doing his own re-enactment of Blood Simple.
Our usually fastidious boy took a dump on the dining room rug out to the back door, and followed it up with a hairball-hocking attempt on the other side of the room. I cleaned them both up; the one by the door looked like it had some blood in it, but it was hard to tell. Within the hour, Sample Deux arrived, in the bathtub, and it was clearly bloody. I got on the blower to the vet and got a last-minute appointment to be sure he wasn't going to die on us.
I left the other cats in charge.
Sumbitch was purring before and after his crating (the crating itself and the drive to the horsepital, less so). The elder vet at our practice, who worked him in at the end of his day, did enough poking and prodding to determine there was no unusual internal hemmohraging, and that Boy was likely suffering from Irritable Bowel Syndrome, which manifests itself in either this way or a similar icky one on the other end. He got a shot and a scrip (and some just-due vaccines), and Eleanor, who'd met me there, took him home for his first ride in Iggy, which was probably the whole damn plan all along.
So he ate just fine; was medicated just fine; and should be fine just fine. Cost wasn't much more than his routine shots would've been anyway; peace of mind is priceless.
----
The other 7/1 7hit was less shitty, but worth mentioning. Eleanor's main work computer wound up running painfully slow and is likely infested with malware or worse. RIT just sent us a $17,000 bill for her penultimate semester because their financial aid site has been "under construction" for the past several weeks. And there's been plenty of crap in the news to get depressed over.
Still. Our babies are better, and from a totally selfish standpoint, and reserving all rights to terminate this stupid month, it'll do.
The evidence against you so far:
Despite this morning going better, aminal-wise, than recent days, with Tasha letting me sleep in till past 0430 and then quieting down (mostly) to let me fall back to sleep within an hour? That didn't stop the house phone from ringing within moments of 6 a.m.
Calls at that hour can only mean Bad Things, and this one was: Emily, calling on Cameron's phone, reporting a serious and potentially dangerous bout of nausea and its consequences, including a worry that she was horking up blood.
Doctor Mom took the call, and talked her down, and through it. No, it wasn't blood. Rather, it was a by-product of Red Cheetos. She recommended cold compresses, flat soda, and plenty of rest. All of these seemed to do the trick by 8 or so, by which time Eleanor was at work and I was (barely) (re-)awakening.
Shit then took a holiday for most of the day. A dull but predictable court appearance downtown; a mostly catch-up day with bank statements and time entries; and calls to various clients and opponents to settle down this short week. It was looking good for an early departure from the home office until I noticed that the oldest cat, Tazzer, was doing his own re-enactment of Blood Simple.
Our usually fastidious boy took a dump on the dining room rug out to the back door, and followed it up with a hairball-hocking attempt on the other side of the room. I cleaned them both up; the one by the door looked like it had some blood in it, but it was hard to tell. Within the hour, Sample Deux arrived, in the bathtub, and it was clearly bloody. I got on the blower to the vet and got a last-minute appointment to be sure he wasn't going to die on us.
I left the other cats in charge.
Sumbitch was purring before and after his crating (the crating itself and the drive to the horsepital, less so). The elder vet at our practice, who worked him in at the end of his day, did enough poking and prodding to determine there was no unusual internal hemmohraging, and that Boy was likely suffering from Irritable Bowel Syndrome, which manifests itself in either this way or a similar icky one on the other end. He got a shot and a scrip (and some just-due vaccines), and Eleanor, who'd met me there, took him home for his first ride in Iggy, which was probably the whole damn plan all along.
So he ate just fine; was medicated just fine; and should be fine just fine. Cost wasn't much more than his routine shots would've been anyway; peace of mind is priceless.
----
The other 7/1 7hit was less shitty, but worth mentioning. Eleanor's main work computer wound up running painfully slow and is likely infested with malware or worse. RIT just sent us a $17,000 bill for her penultimate semester because their financial aid site has been "under construction" for the past several weeks. And there's been plenty of crap in the news to get depressed over.
Still. Our babies are better, and from a totally selfish standpoint, and reserving all rights to terminate this stupid month, it'll do.
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no subject
Date: 2013-07-02 01:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-07-02 01:15 am (UTC)Have you tried putting a bird on it?
no subject
Date: 2013-07-02 01:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-07-04 01:33 am (UTC)I'm glad there was nothing too bad with your babies though. *hugs*