To accurately tell the story of my Friday, I have to backdate this some……i probably should have scrolled back 52 years ago, but why bother? what you need to know: ya’ll remember my other dog died right? and i am fostering a noisy little fucker whom i found wandering the streets…i DO have intentions of getting him adopted, i just haven’t had any luck by locking him up in the house. And last year I adopted a cat to a woman who lives an hour away who has had some medical issues….and that the census job has just about killed the hell out of my truck….flash forward….
Thursday I had every intention of going out in the PM to do some census hours…the cases i have left all need stalking after work hours….and on Wednesday we…i say we meaning my mechanic put in a new Alternator…bringing what i owe him up to about $400……so my motivation is high… and i get involved in a text exchange about JACK THE CAT…. he’s got an emergency UTI blockage and the owner can’t afford the emergency vet bill…..but then who can?….so I contact the rescue group who does charity veterinary and get approval to bring him up here to see their vet. and I agree to drive down and get him and bring him to the vet in the morning….and I get on the highway at 4:30 ish..and it takes me …get this…. TWO AND A HALF HOURS to go what is normally less than an hour… i grab the cat, come home …another hour. …the evening was less than profitable already…so my lizard brain spent money i can ill afford on a new website plugin which I had been eyeing and started building a brand new website until the wee hours (more on that later)…this gave me the illusion i was making money and stifled the traditional panic attack.
Come Friday – First thing i had to do was drop off that cat at the vet… no the 1st thing i had to do was clean the kittens cage and feed them..they are at this phase where food goes in one end and out the other and somehow they end up wearing most of it. ..after i feed all the caged animals. I can address the cat/vet issue. Now remember the cat is AT the vet and I can’t leave town because they will call me when they are done…so I HATCHED this plan to do something NICE that i can afford for my mechanic….remember the mechanic who is letting me pay in installments? yeah…well his office in the garage has about 18 inches of litter on the floor…think of a human hamster cage…..so i get my bucket o’weapons and drive over…when he saw what I was going to do, he had a straight up panic attack…turns out the guy is a psychological hoarder…..who knew? he literally freaked the fuck out……all his empty lunch containers were exactly where he wanted them… eventually he agreed to let me clean his new ‘place’ that he was in the middle of moving into. He was basically moving from one apartment building to another across the street as his had recently been sold. So we go to that ‘apartment’ …turns out it is merely a partly furnished ROOM in an apartment with three other guys middle aged guys. and this ROOM, had had a leaky black mold infested ceiling for a number of years, I still can’t believe the owner not only showed it but rented it that way… Knowing that all my efforts will be in vain, IF the owner takes down the ceiling, as he should, everything will just get dirty again.. …i agree to clean it as much as I could…….all the while John is offering to pay me a fair amount and take if off my bill. Now i am totally way past indifference at the point…i don’t WANT to be paid for cleaning…he has his pathological bugaboos, and so do I. He offers $10 an hour and I am so pissed at myself, I just keep telling him no….nevermind etc…. actually what i said was “you haven’t paid a cleaning lady in a while have you?” they get like three and four times as much as that. Personally I would rather be doing this for FREE AS A FAVOR, than be paid such a piddling amount..of course, the entire time i am washing the white work and the linoleum floors – I am having fucking flashbacks to twenty years ago, when i was newly divorced, and broke, and indeed cleaning houses for ten dollars an hour. But nevertheless I get to chatting with the other two guys and listen to my vulgar podcasts and do my job and get the fuck out of dodge as soon as possible two hours later………now it is like 3pm and i have to shower and get over to get the cat…..remember the cat? before the vet closes at 5pm..turns out it didn’t have a blockage just a UTI…apparently her VET sucks at diagnosis… I have this great idea…i will get my census clothes on, pick up the cat, drive down, drop him off, and on the way back do some census cases…yay…i can write off all that mileage and hours etc.. brilliant…. so i get dressed and get the cat……i get out of the vet at like 5:30ISH and i am on my way back down the highway…….and i get this call from my sunofabitch brother saying: he’s showing the apartment above me and i have to come home and lock up the barking dog……now i know locking up the damn dog don’t do no damn good…since this little bastard’s new trick is to sneak out what i laughingly call the CAT door and onto the porch..giving him a clear view of everything in the neighborhood that is bark worthy… so i says…’i will take him with me’ and i turn around on the highway and come back and get the barky dog. now i have the dog AND the cat who is not in the best of moods in the front seat of the truck with me..AND i know friday night on the highway will be another two and a half hour shit show…so i pull out the iphone/gps, that can’t hold a charge, and ask for directions that don’t involve the highway at all…..thinking even if it takes an hour and a half it will be better than sitting in traffic….yeah right..i get an overland route that takes me through a heavily populated city before i get to the two lane black top backroad…. flash forward – two and a half hours later – I get to the destination…all the way the barky dog… is indeed all that…bikes, motorcycles, babycarriages, it is all bark worthy… We drop off the cat and spend another hour coming home.. And i spent the rest of the evening and many hours into the dawn building the new website to keep from killing myself, or the little barky dog. That was my Friday.