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Divot! 2002-03-06 A few minutes ago I was in the bathroom, relieving my little bladder, and my gaze fell upon the scale in there that someone had brought in. I had the following conversation with myself: Me1: I'm going to get on the scale. Me2: Are you crazy? You know that scale weighs high, and the scale at home is already weighing you higher in the past couple of days. Why would you want to subject yourself to the agony? Me1: Yes but I've gotten rid of a lot of water today, so maybe it would be a little lower now. Me2: Dumbass, you just ate a half sandwich� Me1: I'm doing it, so shut up. I washed my hands and while washing them got distracted by my hair and its general assy temperament today. I cursed at it under my breath and tried to get it to lay DOWN for godssake, and left the bathroom disgruntled when it wouldn't. Not until I got back to my desk did I remember that I was going to get on the scale. I think it was all Me2's doing. So this morning. I was a little late for work and I got stuck behind a slow truck with no room for passing, and I was managing to not have a stroke about it, but then it happened: The truck threw up a huge rock that smacked into the windshield and left behind a large divot surrounded by small radiating cracks. After I finished yelling (some minutes later) I surmised I would need to get the divot fixed tout suit, because it's been cold at night lately and I could tell the divot was just waiting for an opportunity to spread. As soon as I got to work I called a glass place and gave them all my information and they agreed to send someone out to my work to repair the divot today. I had to make some other calls later to straighten out insurance stuff because apparently I hadn't given the right info at first, but at about noon a guy showed up and fixed it. Problem solved, and insurance will pay. And this will go to show you what a suspicious person I really am, but I'm waiting to see what complications will arise. It couldn't Possibly be that easy, could it? Nothing in life is that easy--a person gets a divot and then 4 hours later it's fixed? No way. Something bad is going to result; I just know it. I saw some footage of that recently cloned kitten on tv last night, and it looks a little like Esther! It is white and brown-tiger striped, and so is she, but it has more white than she does. I don't remember if I mentioned it previously, but I have considered saving some of Esther's claw clippings or a little lock of her fur for potential future cloning. I have since decided against it, because to create a little her all over again would make the current her less amazing and special. And that would be bad, because she's the world's best cat, in our opinion. Also, I really really love kittens. If there is a more adorable baby animal, I don't know what it is. Though bear cubs come close. Francisco and I were talking cats this morning and came up with the idea to get 7 kittens and give them each the name of one of the 7 deadly sins. We thought this would be a funny juxtaposition, as kittens are so cute and innocent. We won't ever do this, though, because 7 cats would be too much even for us. Plus we don't have a big enough bed for all those cats. It's a king, but 7 cats would take up an awful lot of room; the 2 cats we have hog far more than their share of the bed already. Okay, I'll stop rambling about that now. I have to jet out of here in 10 minutes--it's my day to leave early and I have to take Boy to track practice [btw, it's much warmer today]--but I have just one more thing. This morning at the gym there was a whole new member of the testosterone brigade, and he was creepy. His creepiness threw me into a conundrum, because I was trying to pinpoint why I found him creepy, and unfortunately I think his tattoos played a part. Now, you know how I love tattoos. I think tattoos are an amazing art form and that most tattooed people are nice, non-creepy people. But this guy, his tattoos contributed to his already scary appearance, and I felt guilty for judging him based on them. I does take a special kind of "fuck you" attitude to wear neck tattoos, and the neck tattoos combined with his menacing strutting gave me the heebie-jeebies. I was going to speak to him to ask where he got his tattoos done, but he was too menacing even for that. Hopefully he will not be a regular, because I swear he was snickering at me when I was doing one of my weight things. I must dash, Love, E
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