Feb. 5th, 2007

I had another horrible dream last night about the furbabies. (When I finally lost consciousness for a bit . . . ) This time, it was Maynard. I brought him to the vet and they said he had some virus or something stuck in his respiratory system. There was nothing they could do and he would very likely have to be put to sleep. I just sobbed . . . and kept saying "but he's only 2!" Then I was confused because I realized *I* was the one with coughing/respiratory issues and he seemed just fine. All I kept saying was "I can't do it, there's no way I can do it."

Then I was back to work at Frank's and a friend's mother brought in a tiny turtle with a mostly broken neck. It was still alive, but not going to make it. Apparently I was supposed to put it out of its' misery as practice for what I would have to do with Maynard.

It was pretty horrible.

Right now both beasts are in the window chattering at the birds. It's really adorable. So all is okay with the felines in this household, at least. And Maynard gets extra lovin' today.
Well, I am the proud new owner of a bottle of cough syrup with codeine. My doctor's medical assistant took pity on me after I left her a rambling voicemail this morning. I have high hopes for some sleep this evening. If my hopes are crushed, tomorrow will be a doubly miserable day.

I am in the process of re-training myself how to be a graduate student. Silly, but true. After the very-super-extended vacation I granted myself (for no other reason than . . . I'm lazy), it was time to get to work this weekend. Boss needed stuff. Left the apartment today and remembered why I used to work in coffee shops all the time. Sometimes working in the apartment is wonderful, but when I'm having a difficult time motivating, there are just so many distractions (I mean, I can roll around with Maynard on my bed every 10 minutes if I so desire - who could resist). Sure, it wasn't my own stuff yet. But baby steps. At least we have evidence again that I can, in fact, work.

I made myself a hair photo-journal this evening. Sure, go ahead and roll your eyes and/or laugh. However, it seemed the best way to track the progress of my hair. There are a million plus one products I can use, 10 times as many product combinations, and a ton of different methods of dealing with curly hair. This way, I can keep track of products that generated results I liked, products that generated results I didn't like, see if my hair changes with the seasons, and so on and so forth.

The furballs, as I type . . .

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and the Beast:
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I have to say, I think it's an absolute riot that he lays like that. Looks like he has no neck and huge shoulders.



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