Late Sunday, there was a baby deer, about the same size as my cat, lying on my front lawn. It was definitely alive, but I went right up to it and it didn’t respond much. Animal agencies were closed, so I called the police non-emergency number. I was told to wait 72 hours before doing anything.
Yesterday it was still there. This morning it was gone.
Oh, and BTW, purplehorseshoe, I’m an old white guy, and I always wear a mask when I’m out. And the only time I lick my fingers is when I’m opening the produce bags at the grocery.
That’s a good suggestion - I might have them text me because we’re not allowed to use personal devices for company business.
On another note, I was informed a bit ago that one of my products is being rationalized. Oh, good. In my world the rationalization process is generally one that eliminates certain products considered duplicative. At least one of the products my team owns is certainly duplicative. Meaning, maybe I won’t have a job in a few months? Guess it’s time to dust off my resume and have a deep, meaningful conversation with my boss about what this might mean to my job. Fucking fabulous.
I rode home from my doctor in the wheelchair van. The driver wore a mask. I wore a mask. The other passenger was wearing a mask, but only over his mouth, with his nose exposed. I would have said something to him, but at least he was six feet away and wasn’t directing his schnozzer at me. For fuck’s sake, if you’re not going to cover your mouth and your nose, why bother to wear a mask in the first place?
I read online recently that newborn deer have no scent, and thus are “invisible” to common predators. So their mothers will “park” their babies somewhere while they go in search of food. Sometimes this will be out in the open, for some reason.
And 72 hours will involve two night times, plenty of time for the neighborhood coyotes to clean up the situation without the cops having to concern themselves.
That’s kind of icky too. Cashiers and baggers shouldn’t have to deal with spit covered money or plastic bags.
If you hold the sides of the bag and tug them to stretch the top, it makes the plastic crinkle a little so you can get a grip on it.
The PTB at work are wanting me to interview and hire 1 part-timer. I hate the entire process, but it would probably look bad if I set the Dogs of Drool on the jerk that stole my last part-timer, so I’m going to have to suck it up. I’ll bet I can put it off for months though, my powers of procrastination have gotten even stronger during the shut down.
Try rubbing your fingertips briskly right at the opening edge - think of a crusty old Italian dude making the gesture for “money.”
Mama deer was most likely popping in to nurse occasionally, but otherwise staying away to avoid attracting attention. Baby deer indeed seem unresponsive - by instinct, they need to not move around at all, so at that age they’re seemingly catatonic.
They need a couple of days to nurse enough and grow enough strength to be able to run around with mom.
Oh, and I’ve been sick as a dog the last couple of days with a hella fever, and I blame LoogieDude.
That’s a brilliant idea. Thank you.
The plastic produce bag struggle has encouraged me to use my reusable mesh produce bags - if I can remember to bring them.
Sweet cat, it’s bad enough that I’m letting in all these flies just so you can wander in & out the open door at will. But you’re really rubbing it in when you come back inside only to poop in the litter box, then head on back out!
Bonus points for horking up a hairball during your jaunt through the kitchen as your poop-stink starts to waft out …
The only problem is they’re almost always at opposite sides of the store. What I do is go over to the leafy greens, which are perodically misted with water; I can usually find some moisture there to use.
He would probably be cool with it as long as you are willing to spoil him with IAMS and skritches and set a faucet to trickle whenever he wants a drink. The rest of us would be sad to see him go, though.
So with all the lack of social distancing this past week. When is the House of Reps going to go back to work? They are still getting paid and have their bennies.
I got a text that said “So tell me what all is going on in your life!”
Seriously? A text? Hey, I’m old, but I text, but christ on a stick, I am not going to respond to that, like type out a missive on my phone?? Call me, bitch, we’ll TALK.
Wow, same thing happened to me the past weekend: someone I talk to infrequently wanted to have a conversation via text. Well, they didn’t actually say up front they wanted to have a conversation via text. It just began with a kind of “hey, what’s up? Haven’t heard from you in a while”. I can’t rapid thumb-text like so many can: I “hunt and peck” with two fingers, and so about 15 words/minute is my speed…minus the corrections I have to edit because my finger’s aim was off. Anyway, my responses brought more and more questions and I could feel myself getting sucked into the rabbit-hole of hunching over a smartphone for 30 minutes. I asked, “How about I call you, or you call me?”. “I can’t. No time right now?”.
What the hell? At least while having a phone conversation one retains the use of a hand to do do other stuff.
I got a panicked call from my daughter this morning to take her and her cat to the vet, as he was having a seizure. Long story short, he was 17, diabetic, and had been diagnosed with cancer a couple of months ago, and she made the hard decision to help him go.
I was glad to see that, despite Coronavirus restrictions not allowing her to be in the building, the vet had a small tent set up outside for these necessary occasions, so that she could be with him at the end.
