Key Subject Here....
Dec. 23rd, 2003 08:46 amIt just occurred to me that I've grown to loathe "All the Things She Said" by TaTu. It's irritating, grating, and that little girl voice makes various parts of my body draw up to far beyond the uncomfortable point.
Back at work today. Although I was to come in at 7am, I opted to arrive at 8 instead. Every past Xmas, I would come in at my regular 7am, then we'd be allowed to leave 2 hours early; however, I still had to stay until 3 along with everyone else. That meant I only got 1 hour off. Since I would prefer to spend as little time in the The Pit as possible, I took matters into my own hands and herded myself in with everyone else at the normally appointed time. It's such a joy being a corporate slave. We serfs are deeply grateful.
Paisley stayed at the hospital last night. Dr. Patch decided that he would collect the urine sample since it was obvious Paisley was straining to use the bathroom, but only a drop or two of urine would come out at a time. We're to go back to his office this afternoon to find out what's going on. He said her kidney's looked great and her blood levels were fine, so he's pretty certain this is a bladder infection or possibly a crystal. I wonder if they have kitty lithotriptors.
Speaking of the vet's office, we took Riley with us yesterday so Lori could visit with him while we talked to Dr. Patch. On our way in, one of the assistants was outside with this huge Saint Bernard. The monster dog looked just like Cujo. Her name was Annie and, when she saw Riley, it was obvious she thought he was an hor d'oevre. She ran up to him, looming over him with her muzzle on his back. The poor dog screamed like a little girl. Of course, if I were his size and Cujo came up to me, I'd probably be screaming too. We hustled Riley in doors where he promptly wet the floor. I'd never seen the phrase "having the piss scared out of you" enacted in such detail before.
I have a horrible crick in the left side of my neck. It would be really nice if someone would rub my neck or at least pop it. Maybe I need Eddie Izzard's chiropractor to "crack my bones!"
There's nothing to do here. I guess I could catch up on my filing, but I really can't be bothered to be honest. I'd much rather go back home and go to bed.
Back at work today. Although I was to come in at 7am, I opted to arrive at 8 instead. Every past Xmas, I would come in at my regular 7am, then we'd be allowed to leave 2 hours early; however, I still had to stay until 3 along with everyone else. That meant I only got 1 hour off. Since I would prefer to spend as little time in the The Pit as possible, I took matters into my own hands and herded myself in with everyone else at the normally appointed time. It's such a joy being a corporate slave. We serfs are deeply grateful.
Paisley stayed at the hospital last night. Dr. Patch decided that he would collect the urine sample since it was obvious Paisley was straining to use the bathroom, but only a drop or two of urine would come out at a time. We're to go back to his office this afternoon to find out what's going on. He said her kidney's looked great and her blood levels were fine, so he's pretty certain this is a bladder infection or possibly a crystal. I wonder if they have kitty lithotriptors.
Speaking of the vet's office, we took Riley with us yesterday so Lori could visit with him while we talked to Dr. Patch. On our way in, one of the assistants was outside with this huge Saint Bernard. The monster dog looked just like Cujo. Her name was Annie and, when she saw Riley, it was obvious she thought he was an hor d'oevre. She ran up to him, looming over him with her muzzle on his back. The poor dog screamed like a little girl. Of course, if I were his size and Cujo came up to me, I'd probably be screaming too. We hustled Riley in doors where he promptly wet the floor. I'd never seen the phrase "having the piss scared out of you" enacted in such detail before.
I have a horrible crick in the left side of my neck. It would be really nice if someone would rub my neck or at least pop it. Maybe I need Eddie Izzard's chiropractor to "crack my bones!"
There's nothing to do here. I guess I could catch up on my filing, but I really can't be bothered to be honest. I'd much rather go back home and go to bed.