Hurricane Kitty on an empty stomach
Tuesday, January 31 2006
I was in Highland most of the afternoon routing wires from a leaking basement wall out into the middle of the room. Part of what I did was normal computer networking, but the balance was cowboy electricianship. I found myself interfacing with the work of an earlier cowboy electrician, one far more rootin' tootin" (or just plain drunk) than myself. Romex wires entered metal junction boxes set at strange angles without the benefit of squeeze clamps, and there was no stapling of cable whatsoever.
On the way home I got a couple burritos from the Taco Shack but didn't succumb to the temptation to devour mine on the way home, despite the fact that I hadn't eaten anything all day. Instead I drank a locally-brewed Hurricane Kitty beer. There's a billboard along US 209 that reads "Buzzed driving is drunk driving," and based on the experience today I'm tempted to make an edit replacing "drunk" with "fun." There's nothing better than that first beer, particularly when you're enjoying it on a completely empty stomach.
This evening one of our vegan friends who works at a nasty local animal shelter came over and dropped off "Sylvester," a big bruiser of a cat Gretchen and I had agreed to foster. He seemed friendly and even cuddly at first, but our dogs stressed him out, especially when we let them into his introductory space (the upstairs bathroom) as an experiment. He hissed and threatened and then charged, taking a swipe with one of his massive paws which happened to land on the back of my left hand, leaving an archipelago of bleeding injuries. Later Gretchen was cuddling with him in her arms when he momentarily transformed from a cuddlemuffin into a vicious wild animal, leaving several bleeding scratches across Gretchen's cheek, one of which terminated inside one of her nostrils. Aside from a Saudi beheading, nothing bleeds quite as much as an injury inside a nostril.
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