Jun. 29th, 2012

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Cat recovering from neutering--still drugged to hell and walking with difficulty. :( Poor thing.

Had to take his food and water away last night, so when I gave a shake of the treat box this morning (feeling like Judas clinking coins together) he came running. I scooped him into my arms--he didn't make a whine of annoyance at that, he often does--and then shoved him into the box, which lay assembled, in wait for him. He started to really scrabble then, testing the black plastic portcullis, but then slumped into an eerie, soundless defeat. The outside, which he'd seemed to passionately want to get out into for solid week about a fortnight ago, terrified him. No amount of soothing and chatting, tapping patterns he likes on the box, offering him my fingers to sniff or stroking him made it better. He was surprisingly heavy in the box--perhaps getting too big for it, now--and the bus ride and walk seemed interminable. I passed the street I needed and had to double back. The vet's office was nice--very old-fashioned, in a residential street, but the vet and receptionist were difficult to understand (one old, the other not very good with people). I was a bit creeped out by how easily Sasa submitted to this stranger prodding him. I'd not seen him so totally resigned and petrified since he first came to our house.

I spent the day around the vet, not wanting to spend money on two more bus rides, to take a long walk back with the bulky carrier, or to be far away whenever they needed me to take him home. Something of a false economy, as I bought two sodas and a cheap lunch, which all told cost more than the bus. I read 150 pages of my review book and took breaks to walk, exploring the library, charity shops and the gentrified strip with the nice bookshop (called Review). Didn't buy anything, though amused by the charity shop with all the Star Trek novelizations, including one where Q and Luxanna apparently almost get hitched. What even.

Peckham library's smaller than I thought, but seems to have a great comic selection, and a fine general selection, with a good curatorial/organizational impulse behind it. Had lunch at a cheap, old-fashioned pie shop which only served pies, mash, and jellied eels. Not quite brave enough yet to try the last.

Did some shopping at Lidl. Katy despises the notion of it, but it seemed like a Gerbs or Aldis with some weirdly good deals/European luxury items (cheeses, cooked snails, etc.)/random good produce thrown in. I've not found decent rhubarb-looking at an honest price anywhere else. Some crap prices though--so Lidl isn't necessarily across the board great for cheapness. Olive oil can be got at much better prices, and for better quality, I think, at Olis. I got Sasa some nice-looking wet food for his recovery.

Picked up the cat and had weird interval with the vet. Despite me calling and making sure they did the free scheme for students and people on benefits and obviously hanging around the area rather than going home in the interval, did a whole 'oh can you donate anything?' 'er, I don't really--' 'OH WHAT NOT EVEN 5p?!' thing. Look, I don't *want* to be poor. It's not like if you're sufficiently guilting/sarky the recession will fuck off and my bajillionty applications will land on their feet. Fuck's sake, I understand the scheme wanting some donation, but if you'd just said it didn't apply to students, or was only a reduced price for students or something, I wouldn't have had to stand there pulling out all the cash I had on me--a meager £7 that was supposed to go towards groceries--and forking it over.

The amount of money's not really important, just--the attitude was so 'oh I've been a student missy and I know you don't have no money!!' and, like, your baby-boomer ass school experience is not my 'not even eligible for benefits, 20 min ago deciding whether to spend £1.19 for peanut butter I hate or an extra 13p for the kind I DON'T hate--can I really justify this decision?!' po. I mean I get where that attitude comes from? I thought I was po /as an undergrad/. Ahahahah. Ha. Haaaaaa. Point being: there's a certain Not Getting It that only comes from people who just don't grok the money concern because they've never been there?

Like, if this had been a set, half-price fee or whatever, I'd have consulted with Katy, we'd have paid it. If there'd been no program, I'd have cross-referenced customer reviews with prices and transport options, made a spreadsheet, etc. We took in a Gumtree cat that might otherwise have gone on the street (though his owner was v. kind and conscientious, he hadn't neutered him and couldn't take care of him any more), looked up a program in place to promote public health and sanitation (true, it benefitted us and our pet, but that's its main purpose), and took advantage of it. And now I feel like an awkward jackass for doing so/being poor. Aaaas usual.

Back at home the cat stumbled drunkenly, unable to walk a few steps or bend to lick himself without falling over. Climbing the stairs was a challenge for him. I petted him a bit, and sat near him but apart when he seemed to want space. He threw up 5 times, coughing pathetically, moving his paws as if trying to get something cottony and choking out of his throat. Thin, yellow ichor--a somehow especially pathetic liquid. I cleaned it up, throwing a cushion cover he'd soiled in the wash. When he wanted to go upstairs to have a nap alone in the cool quiet, I carried him. When he was allowed to eat again, I asked Katy to clean his bowl and feed him a little--dry food, the unfamiliar wet treats can wait until he's steadier. I talked to him and sat near him almost all evening, continually checking to make sure his breathing was okay, and his eyes were tracking movement responsively. I think he may hate me, a bit. Early to tell.

I feel like I inflicted pain on this poor, uncomprehending little thing for insufficiently good reasons. He's an indoor cat, the risks weren't SO bad. I know why we did it, but it doesn't seem good enough. Yet it's done now, and we'd thought we should for a long time. I don't know.

Katy and I were supposed to go out to a quasi-work thing at a vintage clothing store, but then Cat. So instead made dinner with stuff we had to use up before it went off. Remembered I don't like guacamole after making some. Had a bath to get the grime of an especially hot day with a lot of walking off. Had a migraine and felt pretty ill. Wrote to Eon w/ Katy, and to the plumber, the contractors, Parmar and Lucy about flat issues. Need to do more w/ Parmar and Lucy tomorrow. Eon tried to be cute on twitter about me asking other people for energy company recs, after casually trying to coerce over a thousand extra pounds out of us. By reiterating a joke I had just made--poorly. What utter incompetent, uncaring fucks.

Read a law article and some news, talked to my dad briefly. Responded to my Tor comments. That's about it. Hope to finish the book tomorrow, and crank a review out.

On Bombing as a comedienne
Candied Sweet Potatoes
EL James, Author Of 'Fifty Shades Of Grey', Convinces Husband To Write Novel - And Now He Has A Book Deal
Mama Bear Cleverly Rescues Her Cub After It Gets Stuck in a Garage
2012 CHILDREN'S NOVEL COMPETITION
Regarding Steampunk
Nora Ephron: Everyone’s Arch and Insightful New Best Friend
Chicken liver & pineau pâté
Self-Absorbed Is the New Normal: whiny, kind of meaningless
Monte Cristo Sandwich - the Real One
No One ‘Has It All,’ Because ‘Having It All’ Doesn’t Exist: kind of misses or sidelines the strong points of the article it discusses
Placebo album cover boy sues band for 'ruining his life'
Hillary Clinton Bake Cookies 1992 ElectionWallDotOrg.flv
Michelle Obama and Ann Romney Duke It Out Over Who Has the Better Cookie Recipe
Presence of ‘Gatsbabies’ Requires Mandatory Gatsbortions
Starbucks to Take a More Active Role in Ruining the Way You Enjoy Tea
How You Can Have a Bunch of Great Ideas but Still Fuck Up Real Bad: A Korra Essay: the problems this person has are not exactly the problems I had, but I still feel this is really interesting and insightful. Kel's rec.
Some polite Daleks left this on somebody’s door
The great myth of urban Britain

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