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truepennyI slept in, and have been duly punished for it.
Somebody ate (or ran off with and hid very cunningly) five inches of the bookmark ribbon to my Moleskine notebook. My money is on our Elder Statescat who (a.) has a history of eating string, including the Great String Scare of 1997, (b.) is the cat who woke me up at 10:15 this morning by knocking the notebook off the nightstand, (c.) has enough chutzpah for anything. But it could be one of the two formerly feral ninjas who were also agitating for their breakfast.
So I called the vet and consequently dosed the Elder Statescat with hydrogen peroxide. He duly puked in the back hall. No ribbon. I called the vet again. Dose the ninjas.
Hollow laughter.
Forty-five minutes of chasing two skinny little creatures around the house later, one has gotten her full allotted dose (at unfortunately widely spaced intervals), and the other has gotten half. Neither has vomited.
Further consultation with the vet has elicited the advice not to panic, that it is extremely unlikely five inches of ribbon can do any harm, and just keep an eye on them and on their litter boxes.
I still think it was the Elder Statescat, so he got a healthy slug of hairball remedy with his second breakfast (the first having been relocated to the back hall, to his great displeasure). And now all I can do is watch and wait.
Also, when I finally got around to turning on the computer, it was to be greeted with a rejection letter. Nobody loves my alternate history transsexual story.
I'd just say, fuck it, and go back to bed, except that I need to take my page proofs to the FedEx outpost. And, yes, that really does need to be today.
Oh well. Excelsior.
Somebody ate (or ran off with and hid very cunningly) five inches of the bookmark ribbon to my Moleskine notebook. My money is on our Elder Statescat who (a.) has a history of eating string, including the Great String Scare of 1997, (b.) is the cat who woke me up at 10:15 this morning by knocking the notebook off the nightstand, (c.) has enough chutzpah for anything. But it could be one of the two formerly feral ninjas who were also agitating for their breakfast.
So I called the vet and consequently dosed the Elder Statescat with hydrogen peroxide. He duly puked in the back hall. No ribbon. I called the vet again. Dose the ninjas.
Hollow laughter.
Forty-five minutes of chasing two skinny little creatures around the house later, one has gotten her full allotted dose (at unfortunately widely spaced intervals), and the other has gotten half. Neither has vomited.
Further consultation with the vet has elicited the advice not to panic, that it is extremely unlikely five inches of ribbon can do any harm, and just keep an eye on them and on their litter boxes.
I still think it was the Elder Statescat, so he got a healthy slug of hairball remedy with his second breakfast (the first having been relocated to the back hall, to his great displeasure). And now all I can do is watch and wait.
Also, when I finally got around to turning on the computer, it was to be greeted with a rejection letter. Nobody loves my alternate history transsexual story.
I'd just say, fuck it, and go back to bed, except that I need to take my page proofs to the FedEx outpost. And, yes, that really does need to be today.
Oh well. Excelsior.
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no subject
Date: 2005-10-26 05:28 pm (UTC)Will you be sewing in a new bookmark ribbon for your Moleskine?
As a reader, I would LOVE to see an alternate history transsexual story. But then, I'm weird.
no subject
Date: 2005-10-27 01:50 am (UTC)