Walking Wounded

Broken heart sewn back together

Image via Wikipedia

The night before kitty died, I found her in her pen in bad shape.  I knew the end was near, so I plucked her up and gave her a nice warm bath, wrapped her in a fluffy towel still warm from the dryer, and carried her around like a baby.

We generally eat dinner in the livingroom (horrible habit, I know, but a habit nonetheless) and I put her on the couch between us so she could be part of the family one last time.

She was so precious and weak.  Her nose twitched when she smelled dinner, so I put a small spot of gravy on my left index finger for her to lick off.  I misjudged her weakness and she misjudged my gift, clamping down on my finger in a frenzy of chomping. 

Her canine went nearly through my index finger.  When I was able to get her loose my husband bundled me off to the bathroom to fix me up.  We returned to dinner and treated her as though nothing had happened.

I steadfastly refused to go to the doctor, so the next few days were this: me constantly picking, poking, squeezing and cleaning my wound.  I doused it in alcohol, I drained it, I bandaged it.  I rebandaged it.

Yesterday afternoon I did a thorough cleaning (I’ll spare you the gory details) and when I was finished all that was left of a nasty wound was a pinkened raw area on my fingertip and a slight divot.

Today the wound is even less.  I predict by Friday it will be a mere memory.  I can use it for typing already, even now.

This was by far the worst wound she ever inflicted upon me.  It was painful and it throbbed and got infected, and it made it hard to type.  It’s also the last wound she would ever inflict upon me, save for my broken heart.

In just a few days all of the wounds will be internal.  Time will heal those, too, I suppose.


Another Reason To Get Moving

Sony Tape Recorder

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A couple of clients came in this morning to discuss some details of their account.  Nothing hairy, it was quite a nice conversation actually.

They’re both older gentlemen, and one of them was messing with his cell phone before we got started.  We chatted, discussed the future of the account and then they stood up to leave.

“I hope you don’t mind,” the other gentleman said.  “I recorded our conversation so I didn’t have to take notes.”  He flashed a small tape recorder at me.

This was his “cell phone” that he had been messing with under the table.  He didn’t inform me he was taping, and he didn’t show me the recorder until it was over.

What could I say?  It’s not like he asked me ahead of time.  I reported it to my manager and she is going to check with legal.

I really need to get out of this town.

Saving Grace

Louise Carbasse ca. 1913 / photographed by Rud...

Image by State Library of New South Wales collection via Flickr

My 20 year old cat died over the weekend.  I got her when I first moved out on my own right after high school.  She was old and I knew it was coming.  Her passing was sweet and peaceful, but it still hurts a lot.

NaNoWriMo starts today and I wasn’t sure how I would cope with having to write on top of processing this loss.   I’ve got an outline, so I just started writing.

Three hundred or so words in and I can already feel it starting to save me.  Writing always seems to save me, no matter what else is going on in my life.

How do other people cope without it?

A New Project

My car broke down a couple of weeks ago and needed the dreaded transmission replacement.  That means we will not be going up North for Thanksgiving like we do every year.  That means I will be home the entire month of November.

That means NaNoWriMo.  I got a story idea a couple of days ago and I’ve been outlining the hell out of it in anticipation of starting it November 1.

See you December 1!


John Gould on a folder

Image by Pip_Wilson via Flickr

I was cleaning up my desk yesterday and found this quote again.  It’s actually taped above my monitor on a shelf, but I don’t always notice it.  This is the entire quote.  The bold portion is what I have above my desk.

“In the name of the best within you, do not sacrifice this world to those who are its worst. In the name of the values that keep you alive, do not let your vision of man be distorted by the ugly, the cowardly, the mindless in those who have never achieved his title. Do not lose your knowledge that man’s proper estate is an upright posture, an intransigent mind and a step that travels unlimited roads.


Do not let your fire go out, spark by irreplaceable spark, in the hopeless swamps of the approximate, the not-quite, the not-yet, the not-at-all. Do not let the hero in your soul perish, in lonely frustration for the life you deserved, but have never been able to reach. Check your road and the nature of your battle. The world you desired can be won, it exists, it is real, it is possible, it’s yours.”

 ~ Ayn Rand

Wishes & Wonders

Kathmandu sunrise

Image via Wikipedia

An amazing thing happened yesterday: my boss, the hateful snake, got canned.  The official story is that he is moving on to other opportunities within the corporation, but I tell you, there was quite a bit of drama yesterday.  There were tears. 

I didn’t shed a single one.

The new boss has been introduced and takes control tomorrow, and who knows where that will go.  For now, I’m just glad to be rid of the other guy.  A lot of us are.

I have been so miserable the past 18 months and didn’t even realize how much.  My husband told me that last night was the first time in 18 months I had come home smiling.  I didn’t dread coming in to work this morning.

In fact, it still hasn’t completely sunk in that he’s gone.

My focus for so long has been to survive this place long enough to get out, and now I get to enjoy my job again?  I don’t even know how to do that!  I’m going to try.

In the meantime, I need to continue to focus on getting my own business off the ground.


I got an email response last night that I didn’t read until this morning.  My sister in law (wife of another brother) hit reply-to-all, called me cynical, and then asked my addicted brother’s ex-girlfriend if she had gotten the postcards my SIL had sent to her class.

So it felt like 

1.  Attack Cheryl

2.  Side with someone else

I suppose it’s really easy to be judgmental when your only concern is which island off the coast of Spain you’re going to be partying on this weekend.

I suppose if I was doing what I was supposed to be doing I would just let him move in with me so he can tear my house apart looking for drugs, steal all my money and then blame me. 

I’m really angry, and I’m really hurt and I’m a complete wreck.