an irrational hatred of all things mechanical
Ok, now I'm sat next to a radiator, with a Demon Kitten curled up beside me (she likes the laptop fan blowing in her ear, go figure), and brainless cookery comfort programming (Barefoot Contessa does Paris, apparently. Again, go figure.) on in the background, today doesn't seem so bad after all.
I could happily have done without most of the crap that was today, having smacked my head rather hard on the frame of the loft hatch this morning (head went smack directly upward, and not being an immovable object, neck therefore goes crunch) in An Incident that was Totally Not My Fault. Naming no names, but it wasn't remotely my idea to try chucking bags into the loft without the aid of a ladder, and lordy, I do not weigh little enough these days to be picked up so that I'm high enough to chuck said bags. My neck feels like it's going to be exceedingly unhappy tomorrow, but fingers crossed I can just mainline ibruprofen and get to work. And those months of working in a spinal clinic are coming back to bite me and my overactive imagination now. As you do.
Then there was a trip to the local animal rescue to see about a new dog... there was yet another unseasonal blizzard, lots of insanely loud unhappy dogs and my mother bursting into tears within five minutes of arriving. And hell, yes, I am going to vote for the little black dog that likes cats, rather than the labradoodle who would probably try to eat Demon Kitten. Although, given the odds of an expensive breed like a choc labradoodle (called Alfie Doodle, which is undeniably cute) showing up aged ten months in our local extremely low-rent dog rescue, perhaps we should take the chance. Heh.
The rest of the day wasn't so bad, except that Kit fouled up jumping down from a high counter before we left, and must have been feeling a bit fragile as she then curled up in her igloo with Red Mousey and refused to come out. So we left without putting her plastic stitch-protecting ruff on, as it's impossible to fit in the igloo (the vet cage having been dismantled to stop Somebody whining about how much of the kitchen it took up), and get home to find that she's undertaken a little DIY stitch removal while we were out. Gah. There's one left, and lord knows how much damage she'll do to herself before the next vet visit on Saturday.
*deep breath* Lordy, I'm up to ep 6 on the Sarah Connor Chronicles, and starting to remember just how much of a Terminator fangirl I've always been. T1, mind, not really T2 (and how can you even figure T3 into any meaningful discussion?!)... Now that the name Kyle Reese is getting mentioned, I'm getting all nostalgic for my old Michael Biehn crush (this may warrant another viewing of T1 and Aliens in the near future). *sigh* those were the days. And I love what they're doing with the mythology in Sarah Connor, even if the prospect of T4 isn't exactly heartening (McG?! But, maybe, Anton Yelchin will do..).
And now I have to go stop the kitten pulling out her last stitch... Hmm, Barefoot Contessa is making me want to visit Paris again, I wonder why...