Caterwauling

It’s pretty bad when the highlight of your day is finding a very cherished old friend on Facebook.

Don’t get me wrong; I’m quite happy about that. I’ve probably told the story in these pages at one point but I never used names so nyah.

Today brought a $500 vet bill for Maddie. Seems the fleas won’t go away because her fur is uber-matted, but she’s gotten so sick that the vet won’t vaccinate her. But no one will shave her matted, flea-ridden fur till she gets her vaccinations. I seriously can’t win for losing today.

And that was just for tests. Whatever she has, and whatever that will cost, will go onto the never-ending “to spend money on” list.

So, after getting encouragement from the vet, I went back to the current rental office to bitch and moan about the the three months’ rent “fee to vacate legally” and I said, hey, knock something off since I’m hosting “Lord of the Fleas” here. Not only will they not knock anything off but they said they are going to CHARGE me to send in pest control!!!

Lord, if this is one of those tests of faith, can You grade on a bell curve?

But seriously, God, thank you for pushing M back into my path. And I’ll try very hard not to remember that I had a job offer in the same city where she now resides. And to think we were only 25 miles apart for the last half-dozen years and didn’t even know it.

Guest room balcony

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

Today’s entry is sponsored by the words “panic” and “attack.”

I learned that not only does my current apartment need two months’ rent to terminate the lease, but there’s an extra fee of a month’s rent to break it.

Slick bastards.

The options are:

A. Leave suddenly in the middle of the night; pay 2 months.

B. Give 60 days’ notice. Pay rent that whole time plus 1 extra month’s fee.

So, basically, the good people get screwed.

I asked Ghetto Cliche Latoya (with the five-inch-long-nails with which she text-messages the owner when I ask her for something) in the rental office (she was the one who screwed up my world when I was applying here and moving in) why on earth anyone would choose to pay more. She said “more time to get the money.”

Hmm. Smartest thing she’s said to me in five months.

So that leaves me paying three rents for three months. Well, “Paying” may be overstating the issue. Where am I going to find money with which to actually move?

Also, I have to drag the cats to the vet today. Neither one is eating, and they need their shots anyway. I know Maddie needs meds for her hyperthyroidism (while mine goes untreated…). The a/c in the car is broken and Mom needs money for her bills. And I ain’t got it.

I keep telling myself that all will be delightful in three months, just as long as I don’t want cable or Internet or food. It’s just GETTING there that’s going to drive me batshit.

But I’ll get there. Mark my words. …

Looks like I left Rockville, Md., just in time. …

“Kate Gosselin Moving To Maryland”

There goes The Palladian. From what I remember, they didn’t have enough bedrooms to house a litter. I presume the kids aren’t coming with?

Photo from Associated Press.
Definition of “throwing a hot dog down a hallway” at UrbanDictionary.com.

see more Lolcats and funny pictures

Yesterday brought:

1. One successful flea bath and one failed one
2. A lot of lost blood on my part from scratching, screaming kitties
3. Setting off three flea bombs
4. Going to PetSmart for Advantix for both cats
5. Driving around for three hours with two itchy kitties in the backseat while the treatment took effect
6. Having Kadie take a piss in her carrier in the car
7. Having Maddie (not to be outdone) take a dump in her brand-new carrier in the car,
8. Re-bathing the cats when I got home
9. Having Kadie thrash around so much, she turned on the showerhead and I got SOAKED.

I’m fucking exhausted. And I gotta give mad props to the OEH for cleaning the house before and after this adventure. I took care of my bathroom, the scene of the crime, but she took care of everywhere else. (I find I really like her now that I don’t have to live with her anymore!)

But after all the drama, I PWNED those fucking fleas.

Moon in 3-D

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

Just figured I’d write a blog entry when I’m as close to being happy to be alive as I will ever get.

Nothing extraordinary is going on. My friend T is in town, which is about the only time that I feel good and right. She leaves tomorrow, so I’ll be my old surly self in no time. BUT she will stay with me next time she’s in town. YAY!

We also welcome B from Hotlanta and B from San Francisco into the fold this week, even if it’s just for a couple of days. It’s been great. Really. If every week could be as glorious as this one, I would be SUCH a happier person.

The move is not necessarily on hold, but not moving forward. For some stupid reason, my mommy has to sign MY lease. Not just for the place she will be occupying, but also the one to which she will NEVER EVER NEVER get the key EVER. I don’t get it.

I have to have her sign it and I’ll drop off another deposit (I got a deposit for my unit; now for hers). Basically I’ll be paying THREE rents for the next two-ish months.

I keep telling myself it will all be worthwhile.

My friend P gave me a job application for the Over-Extended Houseguest at her kid’s school. They’re not hiring but CAN YOU IMAGINE making this move and not only does my life change, but hers as well?

Wouldn’t it be even greater for her to pay her own damn bills/rent/utilities and I can move on with the business of LIVING MY OWN LIFE FOR A CHANGE?

She needs money for her bills. LIKE I HAVE NOTHING ELSE GOING ON RIGHT NOW. Oh, I’m so frustrated.

More frustrated, still, that she ALWAYS barges into my bedroom and asks if she can come in. Every single time, I say no. And every time she keeps flapping her jaws like I said, “Sure, come in and bore the bejeezus out of me, please!”

I haven’t scheduled movers but, again, P knows some guys who will do it for me (for a cost, of course). Seriously, this woman is heaven-sent.

I’m finally, finally starting to feel like I’m going to turn out OK. Eventually. Not anytime soon. But I refuse to wonder what if the OEH doesn’t get a job and OMG how will I afford to pay for separate lives for both of us for the longer term.

But I can’t think that way. I just can’t. I am going to get her on her feet if it kills me. I will get rid of the cats’ fleas if it kills me. I will live on wine and cat food in my new apartment if it kills me. I will GET OUT OF THIS FUCKED-UP SITUATION that I didn’t ask for and DO NOT WANT because I deserve better.

It’ll be OK. I will be, too.

Send cake. And drugs. I’ll give you the address when you arrive in the neighborhood to stay with me in my lovely new place. …