The weirdness of life continues to dog me. Yes, its bark is as bad as its bite, and it’s also a terrible mouser.
Five minutes ago, my cat sauntered into the kitchen and dropped a mouse and leaf on the floor. I don’t know if my cat is near-sighted, thought that she bagged two mice or that the mouse was stupid, thought the leaf was aerodynamic and could float away on it.
In any case, once the cat dropped the mouse, the two mutts entered the scene, scaring the cat, mouse and me who scattered off into different directions. The cat to the living room, the mouse to the basement, and me to the TV room where I grabbed my husband by the shirt sleeve while he laid horizontally on the coach in a television haze.
I said, “Mouse, kitchen.”
He said, “Cheese. What the two have in common?”
“No, damn it! There’s a mouse in the kitchen.”
At, which point, hubby jumped off the couch, because he feared for his life, and ran into the kitchen to find the dog that wasn’t lost and in fact stood only ten feet away. “Jenny,” he coaxed. “Get it! Get it!”
Well, apparently, she didn’t get it or the mouse which disappeared into the basement. Time to get the Terminator – D-Con or ex-con or Conan the Barbarian.
Speaking of disappearing. Earlier in the week, I had an appointment with a new doctor who reminded me more of a bureaucrat than a medicine man, and so I fired him after the cursory evaluation. “Shit. Shit. Shit,” I muttered in my head. “What a piece of crap doctor.”
When I got home, I looked the doctor up on the Internet – nothing like doing DD after the fact – And saw that one of the doc’s degrees was in Zoology. That’s when I went ape shit. So, I guess we were a good match. His face and my … never mind.
Going out on a limb and swinging on to the next mind numbing experience. Last night, my blog was in the black. No, it didn’t turn a profit. It was one big black glob (word scramble) of nothing. I thought I had been Goth hacked. After going through the two levels of denial: “Not mine. Maybe mine,” I reached acceptance. “Shit mine.”
Then I panicked. Raced around the house screaming, “My blog is gone. My blog is gone,” until my rational side threw cold water in my face and said, “Stop being a drama queen and do something.”
So, I did something that the prosecutor in the Casey Anthony trial wasn’t able to do. I solved the case. I found MyBlogLog DNA in my blog template and extracted it. Voila! My blog came back from the black.
End of extemporaneous blather.