Days of Shades

As observers may have noticed, my last few weeks have been a yummy flambe'd shitfest a bit of a roller coaster. I spent most of Wednesday feeling like the victim of a drive-by-relationship; that the experiences normally spaced out over more than a year had just rushed by in a week and a half, throwing me to the curb with multiple lacerations (It is important to note, dear protective readers, that the other party wasn't driving; he was sitting on the other side of the street wearing the same slightly concussed expression).

It was a truly surreal experience.

Yesterday the hit-and-run turned around, picked us both up, and gave us cocoa. And the car. So that overextended metaphor is promising.

But even that is not surreal enough. I might not have my faith in the universe restored! QUICK, UNIVERSE: WHAT ELSE CAN YOU GIVE ME?

Bast*: How about a cat?

Decaf, whom I haven't seen in months, was waiting for me at the bus stop. She walked me the block home, was there bitching when I had to be on the phone, and thoroughly enjoyed the fact that all the humans were happy.

Decaf: I IS MONKEY-IN-TEH-MIDDLE!**
Me: I'd hug you, but I'd have to sit on the cat.
Decaf: PET ME, BITCH!
Me: Why is she sitting on YOUR lap, kneading MY leg?
Decaf: I R BDSM KITTEH. YOU WILL CALL ME MISTRESS.
E: It's kitty menage a trois.
Decaf: I CAN HAZ MENAGE A TROIS! VRY SPCIFC TYPE: TWO HUMENZ, ONE ME. DESERVING OF YOUR WORSHIP: I IZ IT!

But wait! A kitty and a boy might not be enough! All cannot be right with the world while my dad is in his shit-hole work situation...Oh. A new job...where? Yes sir, MR DIRECTOR SIR!

But what about madalchemist? His temp term will be up soon, and...Dad calls...talking...OH! CONGRATULATIONS, madalchemist!

I'm now heading down to southern Oregon to celebrate Christmas, but I honestly have no idea what more the season has to give me. If anyone reading this is thinking about shopping, and me - donate to the heifer project or something else cool. Help kehrli pay of the credit card. Seriously - I am not in need.


*q13_exe, we all know I'm strong in my faith of you as my personal lord and savior, but cats rule themselves, and are guided only by Bast. I think we probably agree on that one...

**I do not believe that all cats speak in capslock, but there is no doubt that Decaf does.

Livejournal, this is Decaf. Decaf, this is livejournal.



Despite anything he might have told you, Decaf does NOT live with me. He has other people and another name. He sheds the equivalent of another cat whenever he visits. I call him Decaf because he's the color of drip coffee but leaves me feeling fuzzy. He might be a she, but I let him have his privacy, which is more than he can say of me.

As all true coffee junkies know, decaf can be really annoying. He is not a lap cat. He's a giant shedding attention whore who will sit anywhere BUT on my lap, or will sit on my lap only so he can nip when I don't scritch up to standard. He gets ticked off when I stop with the petting. Last week when I tried to put him out* he called me a bitch. I've never heard a cat verbalize so clearly.


Dammit. CAT IS DRINKING MY TEA.


Little fishies help me, I think I'm in an abusive relationship.


*This took FOUR tries.