All better!

The vet just called. My angel doggie made it through light anesthesia and a small hole in his ear, and he's awake and not shaking his head or clawing at the ear. I can pick him up after work, yayness! The trick will be to keep his little brother from licking the sutures, ewwwww. I had a very nice chat with Dr. Bob, and he was charming as all get out. I also know from personal experience how good he is with animals and how much he cares. So how can he be such a horrific employer? It puzzles me to this day, and I worked for the man for two years!

To the drama mama, the things I won't say back to you and risk feeding your need:

Did you look under the couch?
Trust me, breathing's addictive, you can't stop no matter how disgusting people are.
What are you? Ten? Eeesh!

Wow, I feel much better now. *eg*

Worried about the most important male in my life

Bigfoot, the older of my two dogs, has a giant swelling on one of his beautiful, sail-like, black velvet ears. It started yesterday morning, of course. Sunday of a holiday weekend, and me without the wherewithal to take him the ER vet, where they look at you with little dollar signs in their eyes. I'm ticked at Dr. Terry for closing his 24/7 vet hospital, and worried about Bigfoot. He seemed to be okay with it, so I figured it could wait until Wednesday. However, when I touched the ear just now, it's hot as hell, so he's got to go in tomorrow. That means I need to be up by 5:30 so I can get him in to the vet and still be at work on time.

So of course, I'm not sleeping. Ack. 100 mgs benadryl ought to have put me out an hour ago, but nooooo. Damnit.

One toe in the water

My first online journal was and is on a privately owned website, where only 30 people ever had access and only 10 of those ever read it. Some of my friends talked me into a more public journal, so here it is.

I am becoming more and more like my Grampa Arnold, a curmudgeon extraordinaire. I haven't quite gotten to his status, but despite what Cleveland Amory may have said in "The Cat and the Curmudgeon" about a woman's inability to attain curmudgeonhood, I am well on my way to being a curmudgeonette. I like being at home, where it is quiet, and peaceful, and if I can't find something, it is because I put it somewhere safe, not because someone else touched it and got their cooties on it. I'd rather be sitting at the computer than sitting in a bar, and I'd rather be digging in the garden than digging a concert. Probably the only thing that saves me from total hermitidity is my need to earn money.

There. That oughtta be enough rambling to scare off any random strangers...