July 1st, 2002

Chalkboard

Rat On the Loose

I really hate stupidity, I'm sorry, I'm sure I harbor plenty-o'-stupid myself, but God sometimes I just wonder about people. Let's just say that if you had a room full of electronic things with their many accompanying cords and cables, and eight rats in cages who would just love to chew on those juicy looking wires, you would hope that the people working for you would be smart enough to know not to borrow the food bowl, yes, that one, the one that plugs up the hole in one of the rat's cages, to feed one of the rats in one of the other cages. Sheesh!

I was just sitting here bullying Scott into improving the blurb on his web site (It's already a lot better, but I'm taking votes here on what you honestly think of the text. Do you like the nine year old boy line, are there too many references to his influences, any ideas or inspiration to share?) when I started hearing this wrinkly paper shooshing sound behind me. I turned around just in time to see a paper bag suck itself under a piece of furniture. What the F was that? Much darting of eyes about the room, quick stock taking of animals, all three ferrets in cage, chinchilla in cage, many rats. What the hell is this, some kind of enormous freaking spider? Wait a second, where is Mister Brown Rat? Oh, look a giant gaping hole in the side of his cage where a food bowl used to be. Oh I get it someone thought it would be a groovy idea to borrow Mr. B's bowl to put in another cage, so they wouldn't have to walk down the stairs to get another one. That left Mr. B free to chew chew chew for God knows how many hours. Hey, at least he didn't destroy my DSL cable with his tiny hands and sharp pointy teeth, the way Chinchie the Chinchilla once did. Thank God he's okay.

This was a nervous stressy tense day. I've been having more and more of these. Something will upset or surprise me and then the tension will build from there until my neck and shoulders get so tight they burn, and all I can do is lay down. I finally gave in and took half of a Xanax which at least brought the pain in my neck down a notch or two. I had no idea how little time I had left before I'll be gone for most of the Summer. The idea of leaving my beloved pets and my home in the hands of a stranger is really upsetting me. I'm going to have to have Esther stay with her for at least a few weeks, which means doubling up on the salaries I will have to pay. Spending my dwindling inheritance.

This was also the first time Beau went far away on a trip for the day with his Father. My old beloved family would all be there, driving in the car with Robby, (my maybe-he's-my-ex, who knows, my divorce attorney sucks and I'm about to fire her,) and his teenage fucking girlfriend. The one who showed Beau so much compassion when he showed her his hurting toe, "Eeeeew, gross." was all the compassion she was able to muster. I was worrying his selfish immature father would drink, drive drunk, and crash. I wanted to turn it over, be a good Mom, support his relationship with his father, not overreact. I kept my promise to take my eighty-five-or-six year old Mother to the movies where I watched three hours of Tom Cruise, again.

I gave up on dinner because I hurt too much, came home, lay down, got up, fed crying cats, got bit, a lot, by playfully insane posse of black teenager cats, waited for Beau, listened, with a hurting smile, to him talk about how much fun it was to be with former family, people you love and miss but can no longer hang out with, fed him, listened to him cry when he spilled his pasta. Got really really stressed and sore, took pill, laid down, got bit some more, ran for the office, argued with boyfriend about the rewrite I did for his page that he almost completely ignored, sensed something weird, captured renegade rat with raspberry cookie lure. Listened to more Fourth of July terrorist attack fear mongering. Am now wondering about that other half of a Xanax...

Fuck it I'm eating candy.
Chalkboard

Beverly Hills Loan Company

I paid off my things that I had in hock (how do you spell that hock, hawk?) at Beverly Loan Company and haven't picked them up yet. Beverly Loan Company is this upscale pawn broker place that's in a nice BofA bank building in Beverly Hills. You'd never know it was a pawn shop from the look and feel of the place. I guess this is the place where people who have money go when they're having difficulties, divorcees pawning jewelry, celebrities needing money that their managers won't give them to buy drugs, or crazy gals like me trying to raise cash for an operation on a pet rat, that kind of thing.

I had "borrowed" money on several things and finally paid them all off, but I haven't picked them up yet. I just don't have the time and they keep everything in a safe deposit box so it's as safe there as it would be in mine, plus I don't know what to do with all of our silver. I sure don't feel like leaving it here with someone new. So I called today and asked them if I could pay to have them store it for me and they said fine.

I was talking to this guy, Anthony, who I like and who has helped me in the past. I asked him if I was the wackiest customer they have, because frankly I have been pretty lame about the whole thing. If not for sheer luck, the kindness of a Live Journal friend, and the loan company being so nice to me, I would have lost my dearest things many times over by now. I thought my having paid it all off and then not even bothering to pick it up might seem pretty weird to them. But Anthony said I don't even come close to weird by their standards. I kept pumping him for stories because you know I love to collect and share them with all of you, but this is all he said. "Jacqui, you don't understand, I wouldn't even know where to begin telling you about the weirdness we get in here. I have a guy who paid his loans off three years ago and still hasn't picked up his stuff. He figures it's safer with us here than at home with him so he just leaves it. You just don't understand, someone once pulled out their gold bridge and tried to get a loan on it, so as far as wacky is concerned you don't even come close."
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