Thoughts I Have Had This Week

Did you ever notice how the skin at your fingertips is strangely translucent? Like, if you’re sitting in the car at a stoplight and you happen to be facing into the sun and you stretch your hands out where they’re resting at the top of the steering wheel, the light comes through at the tips of your fingers and they glow. No? Nobody else? Just me? Okay.

One of the girls in the office is definitely an Anne Shirley. I have decided that this must make me a Laura Ingalls. No reason, that’s just how it is.

Why do birds suddenly appear every time you are near? Who do you think you are, Cinderella?

I thought it might be safe to slowly venture back into social media this week. I was wrong.

I loaned my copy of Good Omens to a friend. Now I’m just waiting to see if he picks up on the not-so-subtle subtext.

Goodwill is taking donations again! I can finally get rid of some shit!

When we find jellyfish washed up on the tideline, did they die before they get washed ashore, or were they washed ashore to die? ← This was actually someone else’s thought, but it turned into a discussion in which I took part, so I’m claiming participation. I don’t think we came to a satisfactory conclusion on the matter. I see how it could very easily be both ways. Schrodinger’s Jellyfish?

I can fit an entire hard boiled egg in my mouth and eat it without either splattering my dining companion or choking to death. This information is brought to you by the fact that I had to eat a hard boiled egg with hands that were only marginally clean at best, so I opted for the “low touch” method. It wasn’t pretty, but it worked.

We’re playing that “guess which obscure fact belongs to which co-worker” game at the office. I considered making my fact, “The details of my life are a government secret. If I told you, I’d have to shoot you.” In the end, I opted not to submit a fact at all.

I possess a bit of ‘emergency storage’ in my anatomy. I was taught this by a comedian. I suspect lots of other people found out this way, too. Educate yourself HERE.

One of my neighbors plays the drums. The drums are not a solo instrument.

My ponytail managed to end up looking like I had a palmier sitting on top of my head. If I had been aiming for that, it never would have happened.

That’s pretty much it. Hope you’re all well and safe and healthy.

That escalated quickly.

The Mayor of the City of Townsville, aka Mr. Mayor, has gone to Rat Heaven.

He was the picture of health, right up until he wasn’t. He had a stroke or some similar neurological event sometime last Wednesday night. I was putting some veggies in the cage on Thursday morning and he didn’t even stick his head out of his Kleenex box to see what was up. He didn’t even move. I scritched the little bit of furry rat butt that was sticking out of a chewed-out “window” on the box--still nothing.

When I shifted the box to get him to move, I ended up sort of pouring him out of it.

I put him on the floor to see what he’d do. His back end wasn’t working, but he could army-crawl. Okay, a couple of options for possible causes there. He kept falling to one side, though, and one of his eyes was slightly-but-still-noticeably bulged out. Definitely some sort of quick onset brain thing. I was on my way out the door to work, and since he was peppy and alert, I moved some things in the cage to accommodate him and called the vet on the way to the office. Of course, they were fully booked and couldn’t get him in that day or the following, so my next step was to contact the lady who runs the rescue where I adopt my squeakers. She confirmed that I was likely correct in my (admittedly pat) diagnosis and told me to buy some children’s ibuprofen. I followed her instructions and dosed him appropriately when I got home. We then had a lovely, snuggly evening together on the sofa. He was still trying to move around, was breathing normally, was as alert and interested in his surroundings as he was usually, and was grooming even though it was difficult with what was now one whole side of him not working properly.

I’m really grateful we had that time together.

The next morning I woke up to the sound of him having what looked like seizures. He couldn’t do anything but roll from one side to the other by flailing in a way which looked supremely uncomfortable. His breathing was labored, he had no color in his nose or paws and the one eye that had been just a bit bulged before was now very noticeably more prominent than the other.

I got him settled comfortably on a woobie while I showered and got dressed as quickly as I could, and after sending a quick text to the office to let them know I’d be late, Mr. Mayor and I went to the emergency vet.

I called in from the car--they’re still very wisely taking virus precautions--and while we waited for the tech to come get him and take him inside, we had one last snuggle. He was still seizing on and off, and he couldn’t move, and breathing was hard, but I held him and talked to him and gave him all the kisses and scritches even though I’m pretty sure he wasn’t 100% there. He did have a couple of still, calm moments, and he bruxed (made the ‘happy rat noise’) through those, so at least I know he was appreciative of the attention even though he was likely scared and uncomfortable, to say the least.

He was my little success story. He was afraid of everything when he came to live with me, but I gave him the time and space that he needed to get used to me, and once he was comfortable he became the most affectionate little critter you could imagine.

I was looking forward to so much more time with him.

Well, would you look at that. It’s Wednesday.

Er...whoops. It’s 7:30pm on Wednesday, nothing particularly interesting has happened this week, and I’ve managed to forget to make something up, so…

It’s really tricky trying to come up with something even remotely insightful/informative/funny when you’ve cut yourself off from your regular sources of information--in this case, social media. Mind you, I’ve been far less distracted and significantly less prone to fits of maudlinity, so...maybe an indefinite hiatus from all things TweetBookGram-ery will do me good.

We shall see, we shall see.

In the meantime, y’all should be nice to each other and don’t take any nonsense from other people when they aren’t nice to each other and protest and sign and donate and promote and WASH YOUR HANDS FOR CRYING OUT LOUD, WE’VE STILL GOT A VIRUS ON THANKS VERY MUCH.

“...it could be *more* on fire.”

So hey. As if everything that was already going on wasn’t enough, now it’s worse.

Because people are stupid and cruel.

It has been my long-held opinion that humanity is a blight and should be eradicated. Press the red button, please. Stop the simulation, the data is corrupt. Test subjects unfit to continue, terminate exercise.

SET IT ALL ON FIRE.

Of course, that’s kind of what’s going on right now, so maybe we’re finally on our way to the inevitable implosion. Am I the only one who would be relieved if we all just woke up tomorrow and had ceased to exist?

“Faz, you can’t wake up after you cease to exist.”

Don’t split hairs, please. You know what I was implying.

It’s just that existing is really hard right now. It’s hard for everyone, and especially hard for certain people.

Be there for your certain people. If you’re a front-liner, be a front-liner. Just do it safely, please. The Internet is bursting with information on the best ways to protest etc. without just barreling headfirst into the fray. Take precautions, have your bail money set aside, and for goodness’ sake, wear your mask. If you’re not a front-liner, boost the voices. Donate to the causes. Be an ear and listen.

It’s okay not to be okay. I’m definitely not okay. Between the effects of prolonged quasi-isolation and the existence of civil unrest in my community, I don’t think anyone would begrudge me my not-okay-ness. I’m writing this on Monday, 6/2. My office closed up at 3:30 today and we all went home, because there’s a protest being staged within a mile of my office. We’re less than a quarter of a mile away from a major transit hub, too, so there will likely be lots of activity there. There’s a big box store you can see from the freeway on my way home--it was boarded up completely. It gave me the same feeling as the cleared-out shelves at the grocery store those couple of days before the shelter-in-place order came down. Everything is out of my control right now, and there’s no end in sight. I’m not okay with this.

You know what else I’m not okay with? Murder. Call a spade a spade.

I’m feeling overwhelmed and anxious and powerless and frustrated. I’m not a front-liner. I’m trying to concentrate on what I can do. I can donate. I can signal boost. I can listen.

You wanna talk? Hit me up. Really.

But I’m swearing off social media for the foreseeable future, because it makes it worse. I swore off the news in 2015 and haven’t been back--I’m sure I can live without cat memes for a while.