March 8th, 2000
Yes, Barbie rocks. Well, she had better. I have been resizing
and making thumbnail pictures of her for hours now! Yahoo! Actually, I shouldn't complain. I really am having a
ball in this new job. So odd to sit at home in my pajamas with messy hair and just plug away at the computer. Since
John, my husband, works nights, it's a nice relief.
On the home front. My pets are driving me crazy.
The other night my cats caught a mouse. We have mice here. As I have mentioned in the past, I have no idea why
they feel the burning need to come inside my house. I have four kids. I would be happier rutting about in a field
So, my cats catch one. It's around midnight and I am getting ready for bed after a long day of work at the computer.
I can hear them in the bathroom. Jumping and ballyhooing around like Killer Whales with a baby seal. They are clearly
tossing him around, having a rousing good time. And making a shit load of noise in the process.
So, I haul my irritated ass out of bed and go in search of them. The minute they see me, they take the mouse and
run. It's a merry chase. Obviously, as I cannot careen off of kitchen tables and skitter over the livingroom furniture
at as quick a pace as they can, I lose. They win and back to the bathroom they go. We tried this three consecutive
times, my catching that mouse, before I gave up and fell asleep with my pillow over my head. I did say a nice little
prayer for that stupid, rodent creature. What an idiot to come into my house with three cats here. It's the equivalent
of me playing chicken on the freeway with three semis.
Speaking of irony, my toilet is broken and leaking. My husband is a plumber. This would be like Donald Trump having
dinner in a soup kitchen.
Also, my dog ran away last night. John came home late from work and set her outside to go potty. Two minutes later,
and she had vanished. He drove around for an hour or so and then gave up. We had various communications over the
telephone regarding who would call what shelter and who would drive around tonight in search. Then, at around noon
this afternoon, he looks out in the yard and there she is. Acting like she hadn't done a damned thing and maybe
we'd be too stupid to notice. Silly me. What would happen if I ever got too stupid to feed her? Dumb dog.
Okay. Back to work. I'll see you all on the flip side.