Pickles & Dimes

I am in a good mood today. My commute was relatively easy and as I zoned out in blissful silence (I never have the radio on in the morning), I didn’t even blink as some jerkhat in a VW tore across three lanes to make his exit. (I swear on a Bible that most bad drivers in Minneapolis drive VWs, something I’m not sure is a result of the sheer number of VWs on the road, or that VW drivers are essentially bad drivers in this city. Guess which assumption I’ll make?)

Despite our recent spate of bad luck (recap: unemployment, failure to refinance adjustable mortgage, multiple car repairs, sick cat) and what I whine about on this site, I do consider myself a cheerful, optimistic person. Really. It’s just that sometimes, after a series of bad luck, even my rosiest outlook erodes into black, mold-tinged thoughts of paranoia, such as:

1. The Universe is out to get us.

2. This is only the beginning. Nothing great and fantastic is going to happen anymore. I used up all of my Good Luck in high school. Things are going to get exponentially worse every day until I die.

3. Since popular opinion is that God only gives you what you can handle, God is testing us. Only He forgot He was testing us and has moved onto a new project and now we’re doomed to have bad things happen forever.

4. Someone has cursed us.

5. What is the point of this world if all that happens is bad, annoying stuff and then you die?

And then I shake my head at my craziness and get back on the Optimism Expressway. (Which doesn’t have any VWs, by the way.)

I figure my optimism is like fishing: I’m sending out different lines of positive thought into the void, and although right now nothing is biting and I’m going through bait like no one’s business, someday, something good will be enticed by one of the lures and jump on the hook. And I’ll haul something wonderful and beautiful into the boat.

And then I’ll deep-fry it and eat it. And it will be awesome.

Abby seems to doing better already. Jason gave her the pill in a soft treat and she ate it, which is not typical. She usually will eat around the pill and then look pointedly at you as if to say, “I am so much smarter than you, you have no idea.” Although now we have a sneaking suspicion that Sunny may have a UTI now, too. Oh 2009, the hits keep coming!

So, let’s focus on some good things, OK?

- Having 92% of the backyard weeding done.

- Looking forward to our annual camp out at Jason’s parents’ place. (There will be an omelet bar! And karaoke! It’s better than the best resort!)

- Knowing that 2009 will eventually end its hit parade of bad luck. (And I will celebrate December 31 by burning everything I own with the year 2009 printed on it.)

- Finding the funniest camping shirt ever to wear this weekend.

- Shorty’s T-Rex impersonation (short little paws raised up uselessly when he’s sleeping).

- Telling Jason something funny and hearing him laugh uncontrollably.

- The nice rain we’re getting today. (I assume the weeds are regenerating as we speak.)

- The promise of a trip to Buffalo Wild Wings in the near future.

- A funny caricature for our collection:

- A dog that sleeps like a person:

How about you guys?

Last night, Jason & I were watching National Treasure: Book of Secrets when Abby sprinted to the litterbox. She then repeated this action about 30 more times, leaving us panicking. Especially once we got upstairs and found about 10 different blood spots on the floor. Dr. Google confirmed it was probably a UTI, but blood coming from your cat = alarming.

Afraid she’d spend the entire night depositing blood spots everywhere in our house, we put her in the bathroom next to our bedroom with her litterbox, a nightlight, her favorite toy, a fluffy towel and plenty of water. You’d think that after an hour or two of meowing and scratching at the door, she’d give up and sleep, but HAHAHAHHAHA. No. She pretty much made noise all night. Both Jason & I were absolutely exhausted this morning, and when we went to get Shorty out of his crate (in the other room next to the bathroom), he was positively crashed. On the plus side, when Abby peed somewhere besides the litterbox, she considerately peed in the sink and tub. Thanks for the easy cleanup, cat!

The vet called an hour ago and confirmed the UTI diagnosis. I hope the antibiotics work for her, because she’s 14 years old and with my worst-case scenario imagination (“What if you bring her in and I don’t get a chance to say goodbye???”) both Jason & I developed ulcers overnight. And unlike Sunny, who has had two UTIs already and actually eats her medication like treats, Abby will require both of us holding her down, tickling her throat and holding her mouth shut until she swallows it. She doesn’t like wet food, so no hiding it there, but does anyone have any other tricks to try?

Otherwise, I’m thinking our house is going to have to stock up on bandages. And ulcer medication.

Today, after meeting Jason and a few friends for lunch, I headed back to work. The route I take has a speed limit of 45 mph. I was cruising along at about 45 mph in the left lane when I noticed myself coming up quickly on the car in front of me, which had to be doing about 35 mph. I started slowing down about 4-5 car lengths from the car, when the guy tapped his brakes. Thinking he meant to get into the right lane so he could exit for the upcoming golf course, I slowed down even more. At this point, the guy slammed on his brakes. I braked as well (not needing to slam on them since I was still a decent distance away). And there he sat, not moving. He didn’t have his turn signal on, and there was nowhere for him to turn, anyway. What the hell?

I was stuck behind him until the cars in the right-hand lane finished passing. I waited for the guy to merge, still thinking he meant to get over for the golf course. He accelerated and then, as soon as I accelerated too, stomped on the brakes again. What was this guy’s problem? I had done nothing wrong: I was going 45 in a 45 mph zone, I was still quite a distance away from him before he braked, and yet, as I passed him and looked over, expecting to see him either on the phone or having a heart attack, he was yelling at me. Screaming, actually. An irate, bald, glasses-wearing old guy was honking his horn, screaming so his face was red and veiny, probable spittle flying from his lips, the whole nine yards. Seriously?

I threw him a confused look and continued on my (45 mph) way. I noticed he was still going around 35 mph, with other cars passing him as soon as they could. At one point, I had to get back in front of him (to avoid a working garbage truck) and then had to stop to wait for someone else to turn left. Even though the guy came no closer than 6 car lengths to me (what was his deal??), I could tell he was still furious.

At an intersection, I got into the right-turn lane, while the guy straddled the left-turn lane and the lane to go straight, still gesturing and yelling at me (about 4 minutes had passed by this point). I laughed and rolled my eyes at him and then watched the car behind him try to figure out if he was turning or going straight, finally nosing alongside him to get into the turning lane.

Well, the old guy went even more berserk. It was unreal. And the kicker is, I bet he’ll be telling his cronies at the Legion all about those damn kids driving like morons.

This is why I believe senior citizens should be tested yearly to keep their driving privileges.