Thursday, December 03, 2009

Only 40 calories!


My van has been "borrowed" since Saturday, and I needed, really needed, to ship those windows back to Home Depot, for which the van was required to haul said windows to a FedEcks drop off site. (By the way, the Home Depot customer service people have just been super. Thank you!)

The van was in my driveway this morning, and if it hadn't been, someone (Crazy Neighbor Josh) would have been called in for Grand Theft Auto. The real thing, not the game. I got the key back, and began the short journey to Brandenburg and....

ran out of gas four miles from home.

I will spare you the rant about returning someone's vehicle with mere droplets of fuel in the system. I will spare you the profusely spoken swear words. Mostly. Damn it! MotherFucker!

Fortunately, I bottomed out near the house of a person that I actually knew, who drove me back to town to get five gallons of gas, and then drove me back to my van. Thank you, Darryl! My best to Corinne.

This has been about the least of my troubles this week. It has been gray and dreary, and it is finally, actually, for reals, getting chilly. Therefore, depression has been my constant companion, along with general sick-feelings and balloon-headedness. I feel awful and should be the invalid character in some tragic Victorian novel who has a sad end, due to unsaid words of love, or a lost letter, an unknown inheritance, or some such crap. How goth.

Okay. Critter news. The two chickens in the barn finally discovered the windows and flew the coop yesterday. I still have not put up netting in the backyard enclosure. See above.

Silky, who had been ailing, died this morning. I had heard that liquid benadryl would help the process of dying, and so when I found him prone in his cage, I gave him two syringes of the cherry flavored. I don't know if it was that or what, but he quit breathing shortly thereafter. If it did work, it was so much less violent that a bullet. Bless his heart.

There are only 24 angoras in the barn now. I bred Sonya to Harvey last month, two young and healthy kids, and hope to have babies about mid-December.

Love you all, my few and scant readers.

Oh, here is something for anyone over 47.


Lady Euphoria Deathwatch said...

To My Most Dearest of Friends Fuzzarelly,

As you are talking to me, one of your most gothiest of friends, you are right. As a tragic heroine of said novel I mourn the loss of this day for you. But being the eternal perky optimist that I am, tomorrow is another brighter or potentially blacker day.

I will say that my being back in the fold means that you are much less alone then yesterday and I will keep on following your travels. Gas or no gas in your tank.

Sorry you were having a bad day.

Sending you sister/friend loving.

Hugs, Euphoria

Helena Handbag said...

I am proud to be one of "The Few, The Scant, The Readers". I just wish I was scanter than the scale says I am.

k said...

Okay. This makes three scant readers.
I call them my imaginary friends.

Anonymous said...

Make that four! I was once scant,but that was long ago. I am delighted your vehicle conveyed you to the meeting. Your Artisan Vest is lovely. I hope you made it home uneventfully!


Knitting Linguist said...

And love to you! Gray days are hard. Cold, gray, gasless days are harder. Spring will come, I promise, and meanwhile, keep writing -- I'm reading.