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Posts by Kate Paulk

Merry Christmas to all

As I type this, it’s evening on Christmas Day, so I hope that everyone had a wonderful Christmas. If you don’t celebrate Christmas, I hope that whatever you do celebrate was equally wonderful.

I’m currently sitting at my desk with Midnight sprawled out over one of the kitty beds. The little pink tongue isn’t out, but it’s been out a lot today. He is, of course, adorably ebulz, as any basement kitty should be.

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Where Did It Go?

The time, I mean. Seriously, I feel like 2019 got started only a few weeks ago, and we’re into the end of the year and all the Christmas decorations are out in the stores and I’ve managed yet another year without accomplishing anything beyond keeping my job and more or less staying alive.

I will admit that the boys make life challenging at the moment. Midnight has decided that he likes to be petted, but he is very much  not a cuddle-kitty. He is well on the way to being a true basement cat, with all the ebulz that entails. Westley is much more laid back and inclined to just go with whatever is happening at the time.

Curiously enough, Princess Buttercup does not cuss out Midnight, but she does swear at Westley. Kitteh dynamics are… interesting.

Possibly the most annoying thing for me at the moment is that I can no longer see the screen clearly without glasses. I can see well enough to read most sites, since the shape of the works is quite recognizable even if they’re a bit on the blurry side, but if I want any sort of clarity, the close-up glasses come out. Irritating. It makes reading a planned activity rather than something I just do.

The same with writing, actually – because I can’t see as well as I used to, I have to stop to think to get the glasses out and on (and the damn things make anything at a distance blurry as hell, so I tend to only wear them when I’m at work). Those of you who have been wearing glasses most of your life can stop snickering now. I’ll mourn my lost perfect vision as much as I want thank you very much.

I’ll admit that it’s not quite the same when I’m typing as when I’m reading, since I’m close enough to being able to touch-type that I can type while being mostly asleep. I suspect I’ve managed to type a fair amount while being actually asleep, just because being a narcoleptic I have a tendency to lose track of whether I’m asleep or not – and the normal “you don’t move much when you’re asleep” thing doesn’t really work right with me.

I know I’ve had episodes where I’ve done something and have absolutely no memory of it. Some of them have even happened without there being any kind of injury or trauma. I’m pretty sure that’s one of the more entertaining aspects of neurological disorders, where you do something that’s relatively normal and appear to be more or less your usual self, but you’re actually running on autopilot while the conscious portion of your mind is… somewhere else. It’s more likely to happen when I’m overtired, so I try not to let myself get overtired.

All of which sums up as “yeah, not much happened this year. Again. Maybe I need a better way to kick my slacking rear end into gear and keep it there.”

You asked

Well, someone did.

Yes, that means more kitty-pics. Which, I might add, are not easy to acquire. The boys rarely stay still long enough these days.

They have recovered from the trauma of the Vet, and now rampage cheerfully through the house when not demanding attention and head scritches. Thus far staying still for long enough to be cuddled isn’t happening, but curling up on the bed with us is becoming a nightly event.

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Of The Giving Of Thanks

As I write this, it’s the evening before Thanksgiving Day in the USA, and I am exceedingly thankful. I am thankful the first vet visit for the Dread Kitty Westley and Midnight found nothing serious, and Her Royal Highness Princess Buttercup’s annual checkup went well. I am even more thankful the whole thing is over for a year, because getting two not-entirely-trustful kittens and one older cat who did not like the shenanigans into cat carriers was not something I want to repeat any time soon.

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The Shameless Kitteh Post

After getting home from the test conference (and being completely exhausted), I became a kitty-mommy again. Her Royal Highness, Princess Buttercup had been getting rather needy and demanding since we lost both Baby and Bugger within a few months of each other, so The Husband and I had been making inquiries with the local shelter.

We’d been approved to adopt, but I didn’t expect the Husband to come home with two new kittehs.

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Why I Hate Flying

Fair warning: this post is going to be something of an extended whine. I am writing this in a hotel room with the inevitable “joy” of hotel internet after attending day one of a testing conference on the left coast of the US.

I live on the right side of the country, so this meant a plane flight.

Since this particular conference comes with two optional events – a pre-conference meetup the night before and a post-conference meetup on the night of the last day, I naturally wanted to attend both. Since my experience with the same setup last year was that after connections I really didn’t want anything to do with any kind of activity after checking in, I naturally booked a nonstop flight so I’d have a nice early-ish arrival with plenty of time to take a nap so I’d be able to go to the pre-conference meetup.

Yeah. Riiiight.

First, the non-stop flight is cancelled. The replacement has a moderately tight connection, but isn’t too bad. Then the first leg of the trip runs late. It lands with room for me to make the connection if I hustle… Except that the airport is having a little issue finding enough gate staff to bring the flight into a gate. So we sit on the taxiway for half a bloody hour before we can get into a gate.

Naturally, I book it for the connection. Arrive just after the doors close, to be told that I’ve been booked onto a different flight leaving an hour later, and due to start boarding in the next 1/2 hour. Yay…

Time is spent with phone notifying the hotel that my check in might be a wee bit later than planned since instead of arriving between 11 am and 12 as I’d originally booked, or even between 2 & 3 according to rebooking version 1 I now don expect to reach them before 4.

I am in fact correct. The connecting flight loads up on time. Leaves the terminal on time. Sits on the taxiway for half an hour before getting to takeoff. The rest of the trip, no real problems.

Heck, the flights themselves weren’t too horrible, mostly because both were very lightly booked – instead of the usual “we’re completely full so expect to have your carryon changed to booked baggage” it was “we’re very empty so for weight distribution reasons we need people to volunteer to move to the rows behind the wings or we’ll move you ourselves.”

The extra space was nice, and I’ve got to admit that if I have to choose between a mini TV screen in the back of the seat in front or a power point built into the thing, I’ll take the power point thanks. I can flip the phone or the tablet into flight mode and do what I want instead of having to deal with having something I don’t care about shown at me. Or course, I may be one of the few people in the universe this applies to.

I miss the days when flying was an adventure. When it was a big thing, and you didn’t have to deal with TSA lines (no matter how efficiently they’re set up, the whole thing is still a big vulnerable mess). I don’t know how they’ve managed it, but the combination of government mandates, airlines looking for the cheapest options, customers looking for the cheapest options, and airports looking for the cheapest options, the whole experience has turned into a kind of hell.

I’ll be glad to get home Friday (late) and recover. No matter how much fun the convention is, getting there and back is a trial.

Blast from the Past – The Fine Art of Character Torture

It’s been another insane week – which has, yet again vanished without trace (honestly, whoever is vacuuming the sands of time really needs to stop before I run out of them). And yet again I find myself with a thunderous lack of something to write about.

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