Day Nine of Death by Caroling.

At least I won’t have to come up with clever titles for a month or so. Right now there’s a version of “Santa Clause is Coming to Town” that sounds like it was stripped out of a Las Vegas casino’s holiday extravaganza. It really sounds like Wayne Newton singing, but I didn’t hear the credits, and I have no compulsion to actually ask the Minion whom it is.

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The Socialist’s birthday went very well, to my mind. Dinner at the Tex-Mex place was wonderful. He ordered a venison dish, which I wish I’d gotten as well. I stuck with my usual combination platter, and never bothered to look at the rest of the menu. I can be an idiot at times.

Afterwards, we had the grand present unwrappings at home. I got him (in the order he unwrapped them in):

-a “credit card” sized calculator

-A deck of the French cards that parody the terrorist playing cards that the US distributed in Iraq

-a new belt (which will have to be exchanged for another size

-a Lenin banner from Russia to replace the one that the Grey Menace sharpened her claws on a while back

-“Beyond: Visions of the Interplanetary Probes”, a book with some absolutely incredible photographs from the different satellites/probes we’ve sent out over the years to look more closely at our neighbors in the solar system. The book is oversized, and most of the photos take up complete pages. Many are on fold out pages and therefore even larger. This was probably the only true “surprise” of the bunch.

Still to come is an item being shipped directly from Moscow, and his copies of The Two Towers extended version. That last is as much a gift for me as for The Socialist, since I’ll get to watch it as well.

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Clueless was dropped off at my vet’s this morning, so they can try for a urine sample. He started crying in his carrier about five minutes into the drive, and the remaining 25 minutes was pure torture. It didn’t help that I shorted him on his breakfast; I didn’t want him getting car sick, which he is prone to do.

There was a young beagle in line ahead of us at the veterinarian’s, who was also waiting to be dropped off for the day. I’m not sure if beagle had ever seen cat before, but he was absolutely entranced by CW’s carrier. I can’t say that CW returned the affection. I sat the carrier so the open end was facing in towards a chair back, in hopes of helping Clueless feel a little more secure. He flat out refused to be extracted from the carrier by a perfectly nice tech, who agreed with me that the best course of action might be to carry cat and carrier into the back. Several minutes later she returned the empty carrier to me. I gave her one of Clueless catnip socks, and warned her that once CW was settled in he would probably commence to yowl piteously and non-stop. I told her when that happened to throw the catnip sock into his cage, and he might at least be momentarily distracted.

The last time Clueless spent the day at the veterinarian’s the people in the waiting room wanted to know why they were torturing a cat in the back. With any luck the sock will keep that from happening a second time.

musical accompaniment: Some song that has Karen Carpenter holding a note for longer than is really necessary

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Yesterday’s doctor’s appointment went well. We did another blood work-up on the spot, and the anomaly they find a couple of weeks ago didn’t appear this time. That pretty much rules out the worst-case scenario, though there are other things that I also don’t feel like being diagnosed with that this could be. Since everything yesterday was normal though, I’ve decided I’m perfectly healthy and am going to put this behind me.

The doctor there hadn’t seen me since this time last year, and asked if it was OK to tell her techs my medical history while we were waiting for my bloodwork results. I, of course, had no problem with that. The more people who see that transplantation works, the better the world will be. Of course, I was preaching to the choir yesterday, but it’s a good opportunity to practice for when I’m talking to those not yet convinced.

musical accompaniment: “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year.” (I have some reservations regarding that sentiment.)

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Today has been another gift from Mephistopheles. I’ve been running to and fro all day, I’m exhausted, every joint below the center of my back hurts, and I have helmet hair. The icing on the cake was when yet another of my charges escaped its assigned pen and went charging through the walled in area where I and a handful of other people park their cars. If you’ll recall the last time I made mention of this, several hundred dollars of damage resulted to the driver’s side front fender (You’ll Never Believe This). Fortunately, my little Prius escaped unscathed this time.

I shall be very glad when this week is over. Unfortunately, this coming weekend will be the last for which I get both days off for a while. I have to work Thanksgiving Saturday, the Saturday before Christmas, and the Saturday between Christmas and New Year’s. I have already ranted about this in a prior entry, but this sucks, boys and girls. And then people wonder why I don’t like Christmas.

current musical accompaniment: “Sleigh Ride”, that stupid orchestral version that has the brass section neighing like a horse at the end of it

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