Totally agree
… but, we’re talking weird English (Scottish too, eh?) divorce law here. So Hermette might be better advised to err on the side of caution. My husband of a year’s ex made damn sure she moved her boyfriend out (the one she moved into the family house the day after my husband moved out - wasn’t my husband then, obviously - didn’t even know he existed) just long enough to play poor lonely pathetic mum with no visible means of support and squeeze my husband for every possible pence (was gonna say dime but they don’t have those) at the financial hearing.
Very weird way of doing it IMO.
(she married the asshole the following year - made a nice tidy profit on the family home too; bitch)
Workers comp?
Oh, good- hillbilly neighbors with vast quantities of fireworks! So happy!
I’d like to add…
Yoga is not generally performed at the gas station, or at the supermarket, or in the shoe store at the mall. So, for the love of all that is holy, leave the damn yoga pants at home. Supermodels don’t even look good in those horrid things. They’re the stirrup pants of the 21st century.
My theory is that is all for show. “See? I do yoga! I’m cool that way!”
Kinda like my co-worker insists some people sit in coffee shops trying to be conspicuous with their iphones to show they’re cool. I’ve never seen it, but he swears it’s common.
Why is sitting in a coffee shop with an iphone cool? 
My mini: Dang it, Shiva, I was already putting you down! Was it absolutely *necessary *to launch yourself off my bare abdomen and leave those lovely long streaks of torn flesh behind?
Two and a half hours later and it’s almost midnight, and the fireworks are still entertaining the local yokels. I’m thinking a gunshot wouldn’t even be noticed.
I have no idea. He swears people do it with Macbooks too, but this is part of a larger anti-Apple screed that he keeps repeating no matter how many times I shut him down. There’s a reason I call him Clueless George.
So what you’re saying is that you could probably get most of them before the rest caught on? 
SCL, I didn’t know about your wrist problems. I am so sorry for you.
Its just getting dark here, but I haven’t heard anything. I think that we are all so scared of fires that young children with sparklers would get shot on sight.
Chimera, I think I have the right cat for you. He’s a big black boy who wants nothing more than to get cuddles. He’s sweet and cuddly and knows to keep his claws retracted when I hold him on my lap and scratch his tummy. When the new alpha feral shows up at the feeder, he just runs away. No marking happens.
Steve is still refusing to leave the gooshy food cage. This bothers me. Its a small cage, only 4 feet tall and a foot and a half wide. Steve can’t run around and get exercise, but I can’t reach in to drag him out. I like my fingers and want them to stay attached to my hands.
If you want the mooshy black kitty, I could make travel plans…would you mind very much if Steve and cage arrived as well?
They finally stopped (I think) before I had to test my hypothesis. I’m all for having fun but sweet jesus, people, this has been going on all week, and some people have to sleep at night. Now it’s my birthday- whee. I’m getting old.
Getting, as in how old? I turned 50 on June 28th. I marked that as “officially OLD now”.
FL, I dunno. I’m in a fairly small apartment that still has some urine stain issues, despite my best efforts. I’m kinda afraid to get a new cat as much as I’d like one for fear that it would smell all these spots all over and decide it needed to mark over the top of them.
I do appreciate the offer though.
Since I’m not currently working, is that a possibility? I was fired from my last job about the time the symptoms started getting really bad. Even though the pain and numbness has decreased since I’m not typing all day, the grip strength issue has gotten worse.
My rant for today:
While I was in Tennessee, I met an absolutely adorable orange and white kitten. He appeared out of the shrubbery and introduced himself to flutewiz and I while were were moving into the new apartment. Tumbling all over, purring his fool head off - just the most adorable kitteh, but with an abnormal left eye. It wasn’t weeping or obviously infected, but definitely not normal.
I looked for him the next day and didn’t see him. The day after that I saw an older lady outside at the house next door and went to ask her. Turns out he was the child of an outdoor cat of hers.
Today, the lady came over to the apartment when flutewiz was outside and told him “Jughead” is missing. They searched the neighborhood for him - or his poor body - and found no sign.
I dislike people keeping cats outdoors, especially in high traffic areas. I sincerely hope someone stole him and will get his eye seen to and take care of him. I had fully intended to steal him myself on my next visit.
Blessed Bast, if he is dead, please take him into Your loving paws and cherish him. He was A Good Boy.
I know my dear daughter is a bit (hah!) arachnophobic. I don’t mind being her spider-killing heroine, even if I do laugh gently at her and sometimes push her harder to work through her fears. So when I was thinking about going to bed and she called to me from the kitchen, in her urgent voice, I figured I’d have to knock something down and get rid of it.
I was NOT prepared for maggots, dozens of maggots, on the kitchen floor. Sweep them up, dump them into the bucket, drown them in vinegar. Start checking things on the floor to try to find out where they’re coming from. No clue. Get the ones on the living room carpet. Check things in there, no obvious or logical source. Pick up anything on the floor and grab the ones underneath. An hour later, hot and sweaty and tired, we’ve checked everything and stemmed the tide, but we still can’t figure out where they came from. Oh, but there’s another one! And one more! And a couple over there. Get rid of all those, watch for a couple minutes and there are a few more.
I was up 'til four, checking every little bit to get rid of any new ones. You know how hard it is to see the little devils on a white and gray floor, without contacts in? Sit and read a little bit, catch a few bugs. Repeat, repeat, repeat. Finally things seemed clear so I went to bed, only to find a couple in the early morning when I fed the cat. Got rid of those, went back to bed. Got up a couple hours later to find a dozen or so in the kitchen. Turns out they were coming out from under the metal edging strip between the kitchen linoleum and the living room carpet. How the heck did they get there?!
I wanted to go outside and see if the house had been transported to Amityville when I wasn’t looking.
Yeah, it’s a bit of a cat’s-out-of-the-bag situation now, and I don’t want to risk upsetting the new guy by taking it down, so I’ve gone through the facebook settings and locked everything to “friends only” that I can see, and blocked the ex, his family, and his friends.
Hopefully it won’t backfire on me!
(and if it does, I’ll come back here and mini-rant about it)
I have to get up in 3 hours, 20 minutes to go to work and I’m having trouble getting to sleep.
FUCK.
I’m going to be very tired in the morning and as there are a lot of people out of the office this week, it’s going to be dead slow, which won’t help to keep me awake.
The way I look at that when it happens to me is, lowered chance that someone will notice it’s Zombienava sitting at work. So long as I can refrain from stumbling about saying “braaaains…”, that is.
Things I don’t feel like dealing with at 3:00 in the morning:
- The cat yakking on the hallway carpet
- No hot water in the shower
- One-ply toilet paper
I <3 one-ply. Poor underappreciated one-ply.
I’m sure it’s the heat getting to me, but I’m just a little annoyed at my husband. We had some friends over yesterday, and it stressed me out.
First we had to clean the place up, which is a good thing, but you know, we can’t catch everything. We had the first four people arrive and we were sitting around talking, and he noticed we hadn’t dusted the bottom rungs of the dining room chairs. So he jumps up and gets a cloth and starts doing it in front of our guests. I found that really embarrassing and I wanted to tell him to sit the fuck down, but that would have made it worse. You know, they might not have noticed the dust, but now that you’ve called their attention to it, you may as well have turned a flashlight on it.
Another friend arrived with a lovely cake, and when I asked what kind it was, he said something something pecan. I’m allergic to pecans, but I was sure everyone else would enjoy it, so I just said “Thank you!” and got out the plates. When my husband heard what kind it was, he had to say, “Well, guess who won’t be eating any of that!” Good one, honey. Our guest might not even have noticed I didn’t eat any cake, or I could have told him quietly about the pecan thing, but geez. We had plenty of other food.
I just want to sleep.