Mercury is retrograde, and you can roll your eyes at me or roll them down the sidewalk, but I always get nervous when Mercury is retrograde.
In case you’re like, all science-y and logical and you don’t BELIEVE in astrology, which, pfft, when Mercury is retrograde, communication is screwy.
As a result, and that is officially why, my INTERNET is down, and all yesterday I had to work using my phone as a hotspot, which I am also doing today and I have convinced myself it is costing, although I don’t actually know what my phone plan’s rules are re this, and I dare not look it up because Mercury is retrograde and I’ll never find the rules.
You should see what happens when Mercury is Gatorade.
I’m in the kitten room, as I am all day now, and I really fear that Fitz is a lost cause. I’ve touched him, like, twice, and now I know how my 10th-grade boyfriend felt. Seriously, though, he hates me. And let me tell you what. It gets pretty aggravating to wake up, let your dog out, feed two cats, feed the other cat who gets her own sick-lady food then the healthy cat eats it anyway, pill your dog 3x and feed him and THEN
come into this kitten room, change the litter, change the water, straighten everything that kittens have knocked over, FEED them, ALL BEFORE YOU’VE PEED OR HAD COFFEE
and then have one of the recipients of all that run like you’re the devil.
Anyway I don’t know what’s gonna happen or how to get him to unhate me. Does anyone have feral experience? I expect to hear from Will Feral’s wife now. I actually know someone who knows her. He lived in an apartment building across the hall from her, and they were friends, and then she moved and a few years later they were at the same party and she’s all, “I’d like you to meet my husband, Will fucking Feral.” Then she went on to talk about the good old days in that building and my friend was like, Yeah, I’m the loser who still lives in that building while you went on to, oh, marry Will Feral. Is that even how you spell his name?
Meanwhile, it’s Edsel Z. Pretzel’s 10th birthday today, and he got to have a treat after breakfast, which never happens and he was looking at the time and not believing his luck. Milhous, who already ate his own breakfast and the rest of Iris’s AND got to ride the trash cans this morning, also got a treat, because his life isn’t grand enough.
Anyway, 10. I’ve never had a dog who’s 10. Tallulah was just barely 8 when she died, and let’s pause again to reflect on how unfair that was. But here’s old Eds, livin’ it up at 10. Just a little stiffness in his bones and a touch of the congestive heart failure, but otherwise he’s livin’ large. Good old Eds.
Yesterday I put on a brassiere and everything and headed to the doctor for my I-don’t-have-a-spleen shot. I had to drive down there, CALL them from the car, strap on a delightful mask that “Faithful Reader” Fay sent me (I air quoted that because any time I allude to my blog she has no clue what I mean and then stampedes to said post and acts like she was there first thing) and walked in. It was hot out, and I had to climb stairs to get to the office, and I was nervous anyway and as much as I 100% abhor the guts of those people who say, “Oh, wearing a mask makes me panic so I just don’t,” like wearing a ventilator won’t make you panic, I did feel them right then. Because to be hot and out of breath and then MASKED was a little panic-inducing.
And then I was walking into a doctor’s office so there was no ripping it off, you know? But despite my fear and heart-racing and smothering, I soldiered on and got my shot and got to leave and then I had a migraine. The end.
I’d better go, as typing this might COST, I don’t know. Why the heck has my internet gone out? It’s really put a damper on watching that Phyllis Schlafly show I was watching. I dug out an old book I read back in 1990 and reread that, but this time the book annoyed me. I’ve moved that book from Michigan to Seattle to Los Angeles to TinyTown to here, moving multiple times in each city, and then the book up and annoys me.
Talk to you later. Fitz is out playing with his pet rat and he’s so cute and I can’t touch him and once again we’re back to my 10th-grade boyfriend.