Wherein I Work Another Weekend

Had a very stressful week and barely finished half of what I'd intended to; adding Miss Dinah Fantastico to the household caused my older cat to have a flare up of her respiratory tract infection. It was a very stressful few days as I checked every few hours to see if PayPal had deposited my paycheque in the bank or not (some times it takes three days other times it takes eight days) so we could go to the vet.

Thus, I didn't sleep--or eat--much. Or well. Stress wears me down startlingly quickly and worry for my furbabies is like kryptonite; it didn't take long for me to spike a fever and I burst into tears in the vet waiting room yesterday even though my cat was only getting blood work done.

Oh yes, we made it to the vet. But if you have kitties and have dealt with URT, you'll know it's usually a virus and nothing can be done save for waiting it out and trying to deal with symptoms. The trouble here is that my very picky eater can't smell anything because her nose is plugged. I knew this already while waiting to get in to see the vet for a few days, so I bought a wide assortment of meaty broth, cat milk, canned food, and baby food to coax her to eat while shutting her in the bathroom with a steamy bath running. And I've been force feeding her.

Now. Let's talk about baby food. Let's talk about the most disgusting, smelly, awful thing I've ever had the displeasure of handling. Let's talk about the cat sneezing it on me as I coaxed some in her mouth.

Oh. My. God.

I told my mother that when I have babies, they have to have milk until they have a full set of teeth because while I'll suffer baby food for my cat, I don't think I'll like my children that much to handle it daily for however long they're supposed to eat it.

Then she said, "Well, I hope you don't have a baby who is like you."

Me, knowing I'm going to regret asking: "Why?"

Mum: "You came into the bathroom while I was in the tub when you were about two. You pointed at me and said, 'I used to drink from that and I didn't like it because it was sour.'"

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I was a mouthy bitch even as a toddler, it seems.

So I got twelve hours of sleep last night which didn't seem to be nearly enough, I have a vague appetite back which sucks because now I have to do a mountain of dishes before I can cook, and I'm working again this weekend to catch up. Monday is Canadian Thanksgiving, in which I'm to bake a cake and make some bread and bring vegetarian stuffing. And then I get to obsessively rant at my mother to keep the turkey utensils away from my food. I'll probably be kicked out before I can watch the finale of Haven.