so that happened
You know how you never say, "Hey, we've got a little bit of extra money!" out where your car or large applicances can hear about it? Because the moment you do, the exhaust system falls off your car or the condensor goes in the fridge and the repair man who looks rather like Sean Bean (only not beheaded) says, "Cheaper to buy a new fridge."
Well, you also never say, "Hey, I think I'm actually getting my shit together and things have been going pretty good for a few weeks now." Because when you do the beloved comes into your office and says, "S has maggots on her butt." S is a cat, btw. She's so fat -- it's a condition (no, seriously, it's a condition)(no, it's not a condition when I'm fat but it is when she's fat)(really)(what the hell was I talking about?)(Oh, right...) that she can't get around to get her butt clean so we have to keep an eye on it. And maybe we weren't doing that as well as we might have been but she's been outside most of the time so it's hard. (whine whine)(oh hey! I have wine...brb)
Anyway, there's this thing called Fly Strike and it's something that happens to old (and fat) long haired animals where... well, editing it down because for all I know you could be reading this while eating... flys are attracted and lay eggs which hatch and sometimes the animals die. Trust me, if you thought that was gross, the details are MUCH grosser. And after paying the vet a rather amazing amount of money, we dealt with the details all day yesterday and I'm dealing with them today because the beloved is at work.
Which is why I had chocolate icing for lunch.
And I think there's an age limit on being able to do that and I'm past it.
S is doing much better than I am but she had lite cat fud for lunch, not chocolate icing.
At least the icing was homemade.
Well, you also never say, "Hey, I think I'm actually getting my shit together and things have been going pretty good for a few weeks now." Because when you do the beloved comes into your office and says, "S has maggots on her butt." S is a cat, btw. She's so fat -- it's a condition (no, seriously, it's a condition)(no, it's not a condition when I'm fat but it is when she's fat)(really)(what the hell was I talking about?)(Oh, right...) that she can't get around to get her butt clean so we have to keep an eye on it. And maybe we weren't doing that as well as we might have been but she's been outside most of the time so it's hard. (whine whine)(oh hey! I have wine...brb)
Anyway, there's this thing called Fly Strike and it's something that happens to old (and fat) long haired animals where... well, editing it down because for all I know you could be reading this while eating... flys are attracted and lay eggs which hatch and sometimes the animals die. Trust me, if you thought that was gross, the details are MUCH grosser. And after paying the vet a rather amazing amount of money, we dealt with the details all day yesterday and I'm dealing with them today because the beloved is at work.
Which is why I had chocolate icing for lunch.
And I think there's an age limit on being able to do that and I'm past it.
S is doing much better than I am but she had lite cat fud for lunch, not chocolate icing.
At least the icing was homemade.