Author: cursingcats.com

Morbid but successful at cutting red tape.

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I’m surrounded by moms death. I’ve got so many gorgeous flower arrangements, my counter is a memorial now. In addition to making the music playlist, I’ve got to make the slideshow for her memorial. Which means all my texts, emails, and facebook messages are pictures of mom. But there’s also mundane stuff. Gotta shut down her debit card. Gotta cancel her phone line…

That last one is what I wanna talk about. I called Verizon to have her line removed from my bill. They, naturally, have to give me bullshit. They have to try to sell me on keeping the line. I get it, it’s your job. So the guy tells me he has to read me a few offers before he can remove the line. I reply very flatly that “there’s no point, the user is dead.”

To his credit, the operator gave me zero bullshit after that and immediately removed the line with his condolences. I wonder if they get that often?

Whatever you want.

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Mr C has been letting me go HAM** on the cat.  Between moms death and my fuzzy familiar’s terminal illness, he might just be handling me with kid gloves.  That means not saying no to my outpouring of everything for the cat.  I mean I was, just last night, crying on the floor because I couldn’t call mom and I didn’t know what was best for the cat. 

So now the cat has a heated cat bed that he very much actually loves.  Mr C said he was even sleeping in it while I was at work.  I was about to type that the only reason I have a clear lap right now is that he is on that heated bed.  However, right as I began to type that he decided to get up and come see what I’m doing.  Now I’m awkwardly typing with his head resting on my wrist.

Mr C hasn’t complained about all the money I spent at the vet and on his medicine and special diet food.  I also got the old guy some stairs to get up on our bed.  And I cleaned off my night stand so he could have a heated pallet of blankets there. 

Pet Stuff

He took his fluids like a champ tonight.  He’s loaded up with fluids and electrolytes now.  I hope this stuff makes him feel better. I wish I could ask mom what she thinks is best. I’m sure I’ve gone overkill on the arthritis. And I don’t mind giving him the liquid pain killer. However shoving pills down his throat twice a day and giving him subcutaneous fluids seems so invasive. I don’t want him to be miserable. He doesn’t like taking the pills. Is it really for his own good or just for me, so he’ll live longer? That is what triggered my melt down last night. I gave him his medicine and told him I hope he’d feel better. And I wanted to tell mom that I hope they make him feel better. But… …I couldn’t. So I had a melt down instead.

**Interesting note.  I only learned exactly what HAM stood for recently.  “Hard As A Motherfucker.”  And now we know.

Some Things 1/05

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1) Per Request, I’ve tried to get an email subscription set up for the blog.  On the side bar is a place you can enter your email to get notifications of new posts.  Test it out and let me know if it works.  Or not, I won’t be insulted.  It should send my new posts to your email box so you don’t have to bother visiting the site to see if I’ve posted. 

2) I added two pages to the menu at the top.  A contact form so people can bitch at me, and an about me page.  But what the fuck do I put on my about me page?  Suggestions?  Is a picture of my cat allowed?  I don’t want my name associated with this site, but once you find this site, you’d know it was me pretty easily so is showing my cat a problem?  Hell, is showing me a problem?  Opinions?

3) My precious got a heated cat bed and a third kidney food to try today.  I was disappointed in the cat bed at first but then I woke up from a nap on the couch and he was in it.  So success!  If it’s super successful, maybe ill clean off my night stand and put one there.  Don’t tell Mr C. 

4) I just mangled the spelling of successful so badly that Microsoft word was like “I got nothing” when It tried to help.  Fuck you, you knew what I was trying to say.

5) K, is knitting my cat a little blanket for his new bed! How SWEET! Like you know someones your friend when you’re upset and they decide to knit your cat a blanket. Thats fucking awesome.

Case of the Mondays

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Ah Monday. Monday after a holiday break. It’s truly painful. Reminding myself to sit and make nine hours pass is just excruciating.

“You sit here, in this place that you hate, doing crap that you don’t like for nine hours. Don’t move until 4:30pm. Starting the clock… Now.”

No one on my team asked how my holiday went. I mean it was an absolute shit show and I had no intention of hiding that, but someone had to ask first. I don’t work with the kinda team that notices hair dye or asks how your weekend was. I work with a person who hates my guts and another who’s a squirrely micromanager. But DeBitch hates everyones guts so apparently that makes it okay. Yes, I’ve complained about her multiple times. Multiple people have.

Anyway, finally after lunch, a guy from another lab comes over to snipe some candy from the goody bowl. He asks the whole room how their break went and I took the opportunity to unload. DeBitch didn’t even both to offer a glance or condolences because she hates me. Who cares?

And the news just states the numbers. Over 350,000 dead in the US from Covid-19. Three hundred and fifty thousand people. Moms in that number. Just one in a massive sea of other faceless number ones. It’s almost insulting. I want to take insult. You mean 350,000 deaths PLUS MY MOM. She wasn’t a fucking number. But to most that’s all it boils down to. A massive pile of lives lost: people they loved, deeds they did, plans they had — they’re just a statistic to us. They don’t even care to keep track of the hundreds, tens or singles. In fact, we’re not even tracking thousands anymore. Just a single partial digit in an unfathomable number. A god damned fraction of a single digit. In a growing number that doesn’t even register much to anyone anymore.

I called my brothers wife on the way to work today. It was nice that she was expecting my call. She had asked me what time I usually go to work when we talked the other day. She asked me what time I’d be off too. I’ve talked to my brother and sister-in-law more this week than in the last two years, I’d wager.

My sisters don’t answer their phones or respond to text messages reliably. I wonder if we are destined to drift apart without our mother to hold the team together. Or is it just me drifting? My sisters currently live together and they’re chained to my brother for the sake of his children, our sweet nephews. I’d always complain about no one responding to my messages and mom always got mad and said “none of these people talk!” It’s true. But we all talked to mom. And mom kept us all up to date on the others. Now they don’t answer my texts.

My Spirit Animal is Slowly Dying

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So when mom died I freaked out.  Oh shit, no one else is dying.  I told Mr C I was taking the cat to the vet.  He’s only ever been to the vet for emergencies.  Which hey, I grew up poor, animals didn’t go to the vet.  Hell, he’s already been to the vet more in his short life than I’ve been to the dentist.  But I have money now so I’m taking the cat to the vet. 

I had them do everything.  Full work up.  Six hundred dollars of work up.  This cat is my soul.  I got him when I was agoraphobic in college and he’s all I had.  We’ve come a long way.  I’m married, I graduated college, and even more importantly: I’m medicated now.  But this cat is still my soul outside of my body.  No one fucks with my cat.  No one.  When he had an abscessed open wound and Mr C wouldn’t let him sleep on our bed, I slept on the couch for two months.  Not because I was mad at Mr C.  No, but I’m not shutting my soul away from me because he might get blood on the bed.  Especially when he’s in pain!  I’m sleeping with the cat.  Goodnight. 

Anyway, so his first ever vet checkup – at the grand old age of 15.  He has mild renal failure and arthritis.  My poor familiar!  He’s never more than 10 feet from me when I’m home and now he’s gonna die?  I just assumed he was immortal.  Aren’t witches familiars immortal?  I didn’t see myself living another 15 years when I got him, this shit just wasn’t considered. 

Oh… what if Satan showed up and offered me my cats life for my soul?  That’d be fucked up.

Anyway.  Now he takes medicine twice a day and I have to give him fluids through an IV under his skin twice a week.  Poor little guy.  I gave him fluids for the first time today.  They went all lopsided and now he has like 200ccs of liquid on one side.  Sorry buddy.  That can’t be comfortable.  With that and the pain meds for your arthritis, maybe you should just lay down. 

Well.  I didn’t get to tell mom about any of this.  So now I feel better.  It’s out there.  I did order him a heated cat bed.  I got out the heated blanket in the meantime.  He likes it very much.  And I ordered him a staircase to get up on the bed.  And he has to switch to a new diet so I ordered three different kinds of kidney food so he can pick his favorite.  He has options.  Is there anything else I can get you?  Beer?  More stinky wet food? Blood sacrifice?  TELL ME WHAT YOU NEED. 

Blogging… Again?

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So this isn’t my first blog.  I have to admit I blogged before.  I liked it.  I’m a talker.  I’ve had two blogs.  One for friends and stuff and another for more… adult purposes.  What, like you’ve never been on the internet and horny?  Don’t judge me. 

Anyway, I have no filter.  And I was always 100% honest on my blog.  Just raw me.  Which was fine.  Until… I got engaged.  Yeah.  In laws.  In laws that would soon be googling this person their brother/son is dating.  Fuck me.  My mother in law goes to mass every single day.  And she gifted me a book on how to be a good Catholic wife and it says that birth control and blowjobs are sins.  Listen, my Christian people split with the Catholics back with Luther in the 1500s.  We allow blowjobs.  I mean it’s not specified.  But we teach that sex is supposed to be a sacred but highly enjoyable part of marriage.  Go forth and fuck.  But the Catholics believe sex is only good if you’re providing a way to become pregnant or something. 

When I went to visit once, his mom saw my pill tray and commented to him aside that I take a lot of pills.  Fuck yeah I take a lot of pills.  I have 3 different antidepressants alone.  I can’t have these people knowing my in depth, raw personality.  They’re too uptight.  So I quit.  

But now moms dead and I need someone to talk to about the shit in my life.  So here we are.  Anonymously this time.   

Moms Dead

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Yeah it was that shocking and sudden for me too.  She just up and died on Christmas fucking day.  Covid.  What a cluster.  And who’s the one to tell me?  Crazy alcoholic sister.  I didn’t even believe her.  Had to hang up and call my brother.  Nope she dead.  D. E. D.

And I adore my mother.  She’s the best person I’ve ever known.  She was my best friend.  Not in a cliché way – I talked to her twice a day.  When I was driving to work and when I was driving home, I chatted with mom.  She’d say “What you doing?” and then answer her own question with “Driving to work.”  And if she didn’t get a call from me, she knew I skipped work that day.  We’d talk about what we had to do that day and then later talk about how it went and what we were gonna do for the evening. We’d trash talk family and coworkers.

We were all up in each other’s lives.  So now I’m just… left wanting to call someone who isn’t there.  She’s not there.  Sure I can “talk to her” still.  But not really, she doesn’t talk back.  And I have SO MUCH to tell her!  It’s been over a week!  And so much has happened!  I mean I’ve got shit to talk about. 

I’ve got loved ones and family and friends who all say I can call them.  And I have.  I’ve tried a few people.  It’s not the same.  I miss mom.  So I need someone to talk to.  So here we go.  I’m blogging now. 

Hello.  Call me C.