Cat or Rent: That is the Question

As you know, I usually write my blogs the night before and then set them to publish the next day. On or before 6 a.m. ET, if you’re wondering exactly when.

Not yesterday. Yesterday I came home from the vet, washed cat and carrier because she’d pissed in it, and went directly to bed.

Medusa has a hematoma on her ear that she’ll be getting surgery for on Monday. $1000 worth of surgery. Fortunately, we have insurance, so it’s actually not that dire, but what the actual fuck. I have $200 in my checking account, and less than $10 in my savings.

“I’m not entirely fucked” are starting to become my house words. My invoices for the month went out last Friday. So far nothing’s come back, but I have no reason to expect that it wont. But we’ve left the part of the game where you run as fast as you can across the falling blocks and are solidly in the part where you actually have to jump from falling block to falling block as the entire castle crumbles to the ground. To my own surprise, I seem to be staying at the top of the screen. For the moment.

The cat, for her part, seems to realize that she’s making life worse for us. In the early hours of the morning she dragged a pastry off Ben’s desk, out into the hall in front of our room, and meowed loudly at it until we came to accept her gift. Nice thought. At least it was in a bag.