My life is somehow more boring and less blogworthy than ever I thought it was before. Not that my life has ever been a bounty of excitement, intellectual stimulation, and comedy gold, but at least *I* was interested in it. Now? Not so much.
Caliban went to the vet today for a check up. He seems fine and healthy, but he's got some meds to clear a digestive problem (I won't go TMI on you). And he didn't draw blood on anyone.
Ophelia was boarded at the vet's while we traveled over the weekend. Her sugars are in the normal range, so we have her insulin in the right dosage. She celebrated her homecoming by shitting in her carrier while in the car (Ok, so that was TMI, but I'm sharing the suffering. That stuff is TOXIC).
Cowkitty goes on Wednesday for a check up and (all guys, you might want to skip this) to get his fuzzy little balls clipped off. He's reproduced enough. Besides, to persuade Mom to take him, he must be healthy and neutered. He's still very shy of hands near his face, but he will happily rub himself against us and lay to be pet for hours, and he loved the food. Oh yes, food is his favorite thing.
As for my life? Well, I don't know. I could find a job yet. I can retake the GRE and try for graduate school again. I can work on the jewelry and try to sell that. I can keep writing (well, I know I will keep writing, but I mean I can discipline myself to writing instead of futzing around with it like I have.) Some hours, I don't know if I can. Other hours, everything seems possible. The travel time from one point to the other is exhausting. I spent so long in that holding pattern, it seems, that now I'm actually at the next point, I don't know how to do anything. And it's still just another holding pattern, since The Husband's choices will control what happens, where we live, what we will do. He doesn't like that when I say it, but I don't think he'd like it if it weren't true. He just doesn't like how it sounds.
Ah well. I have poop to clean up.