Diabetic cat is diabetic.

Wheee.

So now we have to feed him prescription cat food. After a month on the (quite expensive) food, they'll test him again, and if it's doing the trick, we're set. If not, we have to go to supplementing the food with shots.

Wheee.

The vet told me on the phone that, on the bright side, "You can tell people you put your pet on the Catkins Diet." I responded automatically with an, "I hate you, Larry." This left the vet confused. :)

Where There's Smoke...

My wife and kids are out of town right now, visiting with my father-in-law. I've been living the bachelor life for the past week (translation: too much beer, too many video games, too little sex).

My wife called this evening so that I could talk to the kids. My three year old daughter had a lot of questions about the new dog, and I was so caught up in how adorable her excitement over the new pet is that I failed to notice I'd tapped an extra zero in on the microwave.

So I told the microwave to cook my dinner for 30 minutes instead of 3.

I didn't notice this until there was thick, black smoke fucking POURING out of the microwave.

I slapped the microwave off, opened every window in the house, and turned on every fan in the house. I finally pulled the charcoal briquette that remained of my dinner from the microwave and hucked it still smoking into the trash. Amazingly, the fire alarm hasn't gone off. Yet. Perhaps that should concern me.

The smoke outside was already dense enough to make my eyes burn because of a wildfire in the eastern part of the state. At this point, I'll have to go outside into that poison to get some fresh air.

It stinks like death in here. And now it's hotter than hell because I'm not running the AC and cooling the outdoors. Damn it, I turned into my dad.

Out of sorts

I'm tense as all holy fuck. Not sure why. Things are going pretty well lately. Maybe it's just the paranoia I've been half-joking about in my recent posts.

I'm good at paranoia. It creeps up on me daily, and I turn around and greet it warmly, and say, "Oh, hi, Paranoia, you're late. Nice day, innit?" And the Paranoia is all, "Why, yes, it's quite a lovely day. By the way, you're mentally incapacitated and people are snickering behind your back and you smell of elderberries." And I'm like, "Shit. Pass the bacon." And then Paranoia goes all, "Fuck you. Just kidding. Here's the bacon."

And the bacon is delicious.

So yeah, tension. It's been gnawing at me. I had a really bad knot in the muscle over my left shoulder blade this weekend, and now my bursitis has flared up so bad I can't use my right arm. Fun. I've been really hard to get along with lately, which is really saying something, coming as it is from a cranky know-it-all with no social skills. Fortunately, wifezilla is willing to overlook it so far, since I'm willing to suck it up and admit I'm being a dick.

(If I'm gone more than a week, she killed me.)