The Week That Was

Kate Paulk

Life is weird. I’m not sure which Heinlein book contains the comment that life is not only stranger than we imagine, it’s stranger than we can imagine, but whichever one it was didn’t intersect with my version of reality. I sympathize with whoever decided that “may you live in interesting times” had to be a really bad curse.

I’m currently juggling, oh… never mind counting. The day job has gone beyond feral into a kind of meta state that resembles metastasized cancer. I spend all day trying to catch up the ground that got lost the previous day, only to lose most of it again, all for a variety of complex reasons that are all, individually, Good Things. They just add up to greased wheels on that really nice handbasket I’m riding.

On the other claw, my family is being… interesting again. No health issues, but enough other things to add up to a second handbasket, which – fortunately or otherwise is going in the same direction as the first one, really fast.

On another claw (oh dear, now I’m growing extra body parts. Bad Kate!) the house desperately needs cleaning, preferably before it gets declared a Superfund site or the dust dinosaurs animate themselves and end up as protected endangered species, but whenever it looks like there’ll be a chance to clean…

On the next mysteriously extruded claw, I’m trying desperately to get ConVent edited and the draft of the sequel, ConSensual finished. Except that every time I get a chance – and collect enough brain – drum roll please…

On what I sincerely hope is the last of the claws I’m going to need for now, we have a sick kitty recovering from a burst scent gland. This is – to those who have never had to deal with such a thing – a seriously unpleasant (for the human) and painful (for the cat) issue. The cat has been loved appropriately, she’s eating again, and her backside no longer sports a raw, seeping wound about an inch in diameter. She has been informed that busting butt is a humans-only activity, because it just makes the humans irritable and tired, but when kitties do it it hurts. She might listen (she is a cat. She listens to what she wants to hear, which this last week has been mostly “Mommy and Daddy love you and will pet you as much as you want.”).

This does not include anything that’s happened to friends, cohorts, mad geniuses (Hi, Sarah!) or anyone else I know this week.

All things considered, can we all join in a rousing chorus of, “I’d like the interesting times to stop now, please.”

 

6 comments

  1. I swear I asked to live in interesting PANTS, not times. Sigh.

    And I hear you. Oh, I so hear you. On the relevant side, though, we still have jobs, something becoming rarer by the minute.

    Oh, and don’t forget you have to write a novela set in ConVent universe for a Sisters In Blood duology with me… Nothing fancy. 11k words will do… (runs.)

    1. I keep reminding myself that it’s a good thing I still have a job, especially when I’m ready to go postal on someone.

      And… um… are you trying to make things worse. Because that’s (sniff) not very (sniff) nice…

  2. Kate, if you had the time to read them, I’d send you some silly pieces to get your mind off it all for a few minutes. But as things stand, that additional time-demand seems like it would just make things worse …
    I’m very sorry to hear that the kitty is hurted. And that life is being mean to you in general. Hoping this let up for you soon.

    1. Stephen,

      I’d love to read your silly stuff – I just need a time machine to escape somewhere for a few hours to do it! That or some clones to do the stuff I have to do so I can do the stuff I want to do.

      The kitty passed her vet check-up with if not flying colors, then certainly moderately well set ones. The wound is down to about 1/2 inch diameter (from over an inch, raw, and showing things that really shouldn’t be on display) and she’s much more her usual demanding self. I got her home and gave her a treat. That way she might forgive me a bit sooner.

    1. Chris,

      I thought it worked the other way – I’d have to pay all the EPA’s bills!

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