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May 8, 2006

Hello! We are crazy.

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If anyone has a nice, comfy storage shed that could accomodate one lady, four cats and mucho vino ya'll just let me know. Because over here, we are outfitting our wing of the Sherman Oaks Veterinary clinic. But it will be a lovely wing, everything will be gilded, or possibly covered in velvet, dripping with luxury and all the ingestibles will be flavored with tuna and catnip. Me and the cats would like to move in, please. Please?

I would also like to point out that I am revising my Hor-O-Scope forecast downward. For the street. Earnings are down at Chez Pox On Your House, and possibly unlucky stars are nearby. However, it is not dull ... ya'll, it is only May 8th. Think of the possibilities! A tree could fall on the roof. We could have an earthquake that runs on a little-known Encino faultline conveniently located under my kitchen floor. I could get scabies. Gas prices could reach the three-dollar-forty-five cent mark. Oh wait. What was I saying, again?

So! Very exciting weekend. It's not a party until someone is being plied into a cage and hauled to the vet. Roy and Soba are on medication, and now Bob and Frankie are both in the kitty hospital. Where they are being hydrated and probably given eucalyptus steam saunas and daily massage therapies. I imagine Frankie coming home manicured and wearing a Gucci collar. One can only hope that Bob is so stoned on the good kitty drugs that he is seeing multiples of his cute paws, which I do believe would make him happy. It is all very sad and tear-stained here at the house of despair and also, drinking.

I have only called the vet about eleventeen hundred times, "Hi! It's Laurie. Again. Hi! How are ya'll? How are my cats? Are you being sweet to them? Is Bob sleeping under his blanket? Is Frankie being validated today with affirmations of her supermodelness? Are ya'll charging me for this phone call?"

Needless to say, they love me. They are maybe trying to get an unlisted number.

The general theory is that Roy, what with his compromised immune system and love of making me crazy, picked up some kind of cat-sneezing, money-costing, sadness-inducing bug at the specialist and then incubated it for a sufficient amount of time before sharing it with his friends. Now there is nothing I can personally do to change or affect any of this, so I did the normal take-control thing yesterday and tore my house top to bottom, washing every towel, sheet, sock and surface. I Magic Erasered until the paint was coming off the walls. I vacuumed everything, including Roy, accidentally. Whoops. I washed all the pillows, the down comforter and the cat toys. I was standing outside the laundry room door at 1 a.m. this morning, LOOKING FOR THINGS TO WASH. I am maybe crazy. None of this will have any effect whatsoever on the health of my felines, but I have resorted to Mr. Cleanism for sanity's sake. I am dying to go home so I can Clorox the bathtub. Ya'll. I have lost my damn mind. Send wine.

Posted by laurie at May 8, 2006 9:58 AM