Someone once told me that if you can name three positive things that happened during the day, everything isn’t as bad as it sounds in your head. So far, these are my positives for today:
1) At the moment, I’m still successfully converting oxygen to carbon dioxide. That makes me one step more evolved than certain forms of bacteria, or so my fancy-schmancy edumacation tells me.
2) Three rabbits and one squirrel tried to commit suicide by throwing themselves in front of my tires. I thwarted their dying wishes.
3) I am no longer the most hated person on my block. That honor now belongs to my (new) redneck neighbor, whose frequently visiting friends have an enormous rebel flag hanging in the rear window of their broke-ass Chevelle. Our neighborhood is something like 50% black now, so I’m pretty sure it’s not my car’s tires that will get slashed in the dead of night.
But I’m pretty sure the person who gave me that advice was
a fat fucking liar full of shit, because even after naming three positive things about today, karma is still out to fuck me. Fuck me with a capital FAIL:
1) My cat, the awesome Mr. Kitty, killer of all things fluffy and squee, had to have major surgery on his right rear leg yesterday. We don’t know how it happened, but he managed to break his leg near the point where the fibula articulates with the tarsus and tear all the ligaments there. Um, compundly. So there were little bits of bone sticking out of his skin. (Or something like that. The vet explained it really well with all sorts of diagrams and x-rays, but all I could think about was blood and gore and STITCHES mah poor furry baby!)
After he comes home, he’ll be confined in a pen with a splint for the next three to six weeks. Even after all that, we’re not sure if he’ll even have use of the leg. Worst case scenario: we’ll end up with a three-legged cat. It just makes me sick to think about.
2) I got summoned for jury duty. In a state I haven’t voted or claimed residence in for over two years. And they want me to be there starting June 20. I’ll have to jump through all sorts of red tape to prove residence in another state because someone couldn’t be bothered to update the county register.
3) Boo decided to play Picasso again. And that’s all I’ll say about that.
So you better not go all Judgy McJudgerson on my ass, because IMMA HAVE ME ANOTHER DRANK. And then cry into my jury summons.