One day I’m going to sleep past 3am. Today’s wake up call is compliments of kitty claws kneading a very unhappy neck. He purrs so cute–an endearing quality best enjoyed while breathing.
The only thing that would come close to the kind of calm a purring kitty gives me would be to put a vibrator in my mansion-sized purse. I was discussing this with my husband just after the last dental exploration where an Endodontist used a pick to jab an especially sensitive tooth before announcing, “This one can’t be saved.” He rightly pointed out people might look at me funny, or laugh. The dental student listening to the conversation was chuckling, too. The mental movie of a dentist laughing while drilling the hell out of a tooth was as funny as a cat trapped in an ailurophobia convention.
Yes, the invention of the vibrating purse sank into oblivion like a snitch wearing cement shoes.
Of course, this led me to think of things that are just about as funny.
WHAT THE WORDS “NEW AND IMPROVED” REALLY MEAN.
I love computers. What I hate is the fact that in the quest to create software for the entirely too technically endowed, the rest of us are left by the side of the road like a bunch of unwanted puppies.
Making me learn a word program where I have to scroll through 20 menus to get to what I want is like needing a bicycle and being told no–you have to learn how to pilot an air bus. How did I solve that problem? I use Open Office. It’s free, it works, and it doesn’t come with more bells and whistles than a bad sci fi movie.
THAT INSIDIOUS INFECTION CALLED COMPLAINING.
I can start out happy, but all it takes is one person complaining and the ensuing conversation grows into a black hole of negativity. When it stops, I feel as dirty as if I’d been swimming at a waste treatment plant.
Is there anything worse than infectious complaining? Yes–when your older sister who started it is the one who says in a self-righteous and arrogant tone, “This complaining is getting us nowhere.” Why is it so infuriating? I didn’t think of it first. I want to be the self-righteous arrogant bitch who says it. That’s a lot more satisfying.
It’s 3:30am. I’m ready to go back to bed again–right after I tie a scarf around my neck.