In which the kitten is saved, but the laptop is lost. (Another post comprised almost entirely of bitching and self-pity. Yes, I sure know how to crank out the content!)

So the kitten now lives at the rental store, until the local no-kill shelter decides to return calls so she can be transferred into their care. (Our local no-kill shelter is notoriously difficult to give animals to. They tend to argue with you when you try to give them animals, and always ask why you don’t keep the animal yourself.) The ever-gorgeous Mr J called me up after the last post and droned, “Okay, tell me where they are,” and then performed a rescue mission. Turns out there was only one, a sleek black female with dark amber eyes. Rescue: complete. Don’t ever let anyone tell you the Internet isn’t a Force For Good.

Yesterday morning Bread called me up in a grumpy mood and wanted the laptop. Now. Over-goddamned-NIGHT, thank you very much. So I spent a good portion of my day yesterday packing and shipping the laptop. I spent nearly two hours driving around looking for a UPS truck to give the package to. In the heat. I couldn’t find one, and had to wait for the 5:45 pick-up at Copperfield. All this means I no longer have a portable computer, which in turn means no more coffee-shop ‘net access, no more DVDs in bed where the A/C is, no more iTunes library, and no more email.

Well, actually, once I pay my land line bill I may be able to connect over dial-up from home, but since LISCO let me go? My free account may no longer even work.

And while I understand that the laptop was purchased specifically for selling roofs in Indianapolis, that trivial detail didn’t stop me from being royally, utterly, completely pissed the hell off that I had to give it up. It was — to be totally dramatic about the whole situation — the one fun doodad I had. And now it’s en route to Indy, where Bread will probably use it less than an hour a day. Bah.

I’m broke, I don’t have a job, there are no matches for me in the Iowa Jobsearch database, I hate my house, I hate my commute, my dogs are miserable, my PPC doesn’t work, and I don’t even have my own fucking car. (It’s parked in the barn with two flat tires and I’m driving BoSe’s Exploder. Which is much better than nothing, and I’m grateful, but still. It’d be nice to have my own fucking ride, all things considered.) I was rather inordinately fond of the laptop, for its portability and wirelessness and my Ovusoft database and MY ITUNES LIBRARY, and, you know, the ability to edit and email resumes and stuff. *bangs head on desk* I’m afraid I was totally immature about the whole thing, but I hereby excuse myself since I’m so close to the end of my goddamned rope.

Right now I’m blogging from the rental store, because J said I could. My ‘net presence will probably be even more sporadic for the next while. If you can’t live without me, you should text my cell phone. I love text messages. (If you want my new number, leave a comment and I’ll email it to you the next time I’m online.)

I was supposed to have a meeting at WGC today to see if they have a job for me, but SF had to run out of town for some emergency or another. I’ll have to see him tomorrow when I get back from the airport. (I’m driving a friend to the airport tomorrow for fifty bucks. Yeah! Fifty bucks!) Tonight I have band practice and hopefully PK’s stocked his fridge with tasty beverages ’cause I could use a few.

I watched Sin City last night. Fun vid. Dark and violent, but fun. I think it gave me bad dreams, but since I very rarely remember my dreams it hardly matters.

Bread called me this afternoon and said he was thinking about bailing on the roofing thing. He’s feeling broke and dispondant and doesn’t want to borrow any more money and there are a couple of jobs he could go do and he doesn’t know if he can wait much longer for the money to start coming and I totally understand that, but if I shipped him that laptop for nothing I might just have to explode.

In which I’m trying to become a night person because I don’t have Bread around waking my ass up at the asscrack of dawn. Ack!

I’m online, which means I’m back at the coffee shop. It’s four in the afternoon, and I did not make it to the unemployment office today but I have a meeting shortly with Seminar Crowds for a possible temp job in their IT department, so I feel only mildly guilty about not doing what I said I’d do today.

NLW and the ever-gorgeous Mr. J took me with them to Scrottumwa the other night for a dinner/movie date. We ate at Applebees and saw the new Pirates movie. One word, people: Johnny motherfucking Depp. Rowr!

Sunday I lazed around most of the day, but I did manage to get all three dogs washed. What a chore! Dog-washing makes you sore in weird places, because you end up standing hunched over in weird positions trying to wash their armpits and things. All three dogs are still totally, utterly lousy with fleas. I’ve got Shiva on children’s benadryl and a topical wound treatment and he seems to be feeling marginally better, but he’s still bald and all three dogs are still squinching themselves constantly. I’m going to try to find some diatomaceous earth and dust the hell out of them with it.

Last evening Gorgeous called and invited me to pizza at her place with her and her daughter and AmmZon. I hopped in the shower to get the dog hair and mud off, then dressed and drove to town. Daughter was grounded and had to stay in her room cleaning. Gorgeous and AmmZon and I played Scrabble, then moved to the basement and played Yahtzee!. (I love Yahtzee!, I truly do.) AmmZon left at midnight to go can pickles and relish with her aunt (they do that in her family, put up preserves in the middle of the night when it’s cooler); Gorgeous and I stayed up until a quarter to three and she caught me up on all the juicy gossip (fights, breakups, hookups) — and she had to work in the morning! I drove home. The dogs greeted me as if I’d been gone three weeks instead of six hours and then I cranked up the A/C and crashed.

Today I got up and fed the dogs and had some breakfast, but since I’d slept in I decided to hang out a bit before going to town because I didn’t want to get to the unemployment office during the lunch hour when they’d be closed. I went back upstairs to the bedroom because it’s SO GODDAMNED HOT AND STICKY AND MISERABLE OUT RIGHT NOW, OMFG and the bedroom is air conditioned…

…and fell asleep. Which is why I’m so damn late making it to town.

I spoke with Bread today. The guys have moved to another company and are now selling roofs for MR ROOF. Bread said the new company needed a combo secretary/IT person and asked if I was interested, but I said I wasn’t sure. “I can’t tell if it’s just the Fairfield vortex or a real intuition, but I feel like I should stay here and live in our house and take care of our THREE DOGS AND CAT rather than go get a ten-dollar-an-hour office job in Indianapolis.” He said I should think about it, mentioned that the guys had a line on a house to rent out there, and then we talked about our overdue bills. He said he’d make some calls and get me some cash in a day or two. I guess he’s going to ask either SF or his mom for enough to cover the car insurance and truck payment for now because he’s not expecting a check for another two weeks.

So, I feel rather lame for not making it to the unemployment office today, but I’ll be there with bells on tomorrow morning because I plan on not staying up until nearly three talking my face off. (I’m such a night person; I really need very little schedule deviation to find myself sleeping all day and staying up all night. I just lean that way. Left to my own devices I find it harder and harder to get up at seven or eight. Knowing this, I’ll have to nip it in the bud immediately and go to bed on time tonight and get up on time tomorrow. Either that or just get a damned night job already.)

I’m so far behind on my blogroll it’s absurd, but I’m never online lately. I miss you all and will get caught up eventually, and your comments her make me all warm and fuzzy. I miss my IM buddies too – you know who you are! *smooch* Soon I’ll get my shit back together and will resume my virtual life on the Internet, yea verily.

On the subject of friends, I’d like to gush again. Since I’ve been back I’ve been surrounded by awesome women who have offered me everything imaginable: companionship, friendship, meals if I need them (they all know how broke I am right now), support, help finding a job, and love. Raybo stocked my fridge with several meals, Gorgeous fed me last night and got me a meeting at her company, Nanner told me to come by and eat at her place whenever I need to. It’s enough to make a girl mist up a little. Not to dork out too totally, but it makes me feel all squishy inside and I’m abjectly grateful.

Here’s to the benefits of hard times! It helps you remember what really matters. Now, if I can avoid filing bankruptcy, that would be totally hot.

In which I check in.

I’ve been off the ‘net for a couple days because — surprize, surprize — I didn’t pay my phone bill and so I can’t get online from home. Right now I’m at the coffee shop with NLW, waiting for my frappuccino.

After getting laid off, I went to get drunk. Don’t ever let anyone tell you getting drunk doesn’t solve your problems, because it totally does. After half a bottle of wine, getting laid off stops stinging. Somewhere during your second bottle of wine, you’re stoked you’re unemployed because you know you’ll never make it to work in the morning.

I spent two days with Raybo and her brood. The first night I crashed at her place, the second night she and her kids came to the farm. There was Middle Eastern food, there were pina coladas, smoking on the porch. Talking. It was soooo goood to have women and children around me.

Raybo lost her job in June, so she didn’t have to be anywhere either. She and her kids and I swam in the triangle pond yesterday.

NLW showed up at my place today just after I finished lunch. She didn’t have my new cell number, and I’d been off the Internet, so she just drove out to check on me. I’d been recovering from two days of having kids everywhere.

So NLW’s abducting me for coffee in town. Plus I gotta go buy benadryl and flea shampoo and dog food in time to be back at NLW’s man’s store by four. Ciao, babies!

In other news, I’ll be spending a few hours in the employment office on Monday. Filling out paperwork, waiting in uncomfortable chairs, talking to bored and overworked government employees, being told either I’m not eligible for unemployment benefits or that I am but it’s only $22.50 a week. Yay. *rolleyes*

In which I go off on the farm. Again.

I had breakfast yesterday at Bob Evans with the group. We laughed a lot. Then we walked back to the motel and BoSe left for an ‘urgent meeting’ in Truck & Bowling Jesus’ room *nudge nudge, wink wink*, and I got ravished. Then Bread gave me much of his remaining cash, we loaded the Exploder, and off I went.

It took about six hours to get to the Red Rock. I called AmmZon and she came right over and we caught up while I ate.

Then I drove the rest of the way home. It was stormy. Our housesitter was there; he’d changed the sheets on the bed, bless his heart, and they were in the wash when I arrived. (The dogs had slept on the bed, he said.) We chatted a bit, then he went out to see his Grandma. (He never came back.)

I took a brief tour of the house.

Entropy.

He’d been sleeping there, on the couch, but that was about it. He hadn’t been hanging out there much — and I don’t blame him, he’s got his own life, not to mention two jobs — and the house was starting to revert to nature.

Dust everywhere. An eviscerated dead mouse on the kitchen counter. Bugs, spiderwebs.

My office was spotless when I left three weeks ago. Left entirely to its own devices, it was filthy when I returned, covered in a thick layer of dust. It looked like it had been empty for a couple of years.

Anyway, the point is that I hate that place. Officially. It’s depressing. I simply don’t like living in the country in an old farm house. It would be marginally better living in the country in a brand new house, but only just. Nature is dirty, that’s her thing, that’s what she does.

Not to mention that we can’t really afford it, not without Bread working full-time. Which he hasn’t been for the past two years or so. Mortgage, twice-annual balloon payments, insurance, property tax. The thing is an anchor. Albatross. Whatever. I’d try to convince Bread that we should put it on the market, but with the house ripped apart in the way that it is, I really doubt it would sell.

To make homecoming even more nifty, Shiva is nearly bald. He’s got scabs all over from biting himself. Bindu’s got a thin patch of fur on each haunch where she’s been squinching. Stella’s coat looks fine, but she’s obviously itchy, too. All three dogs were Frontlined the week before we left, so they’re not even due for another dose yet. Yet they’re clearly totally fucking miserable.

I pulled poor, practically-bald Shiva into the shower with me this morning and sudsed him thoroughly with soothing, minty, non-toxic Dr Bronner’s. He couldn’t decide if he was freaked out or in bliss, and alternated from whining with discomfort to grunting in pleasure. It was pretty cute. As was his drying off dance afterward.

I’m going to put all three dogs on children’s Benadryl and Dr Bronner them every third day until they’re better. Poor fuckers. Damn fleas.

I’m not sure if I’m willing to try and bathe the cat. He’s a pretty mellow cat, though, so maybe. We’ll see. Maybe I’ll just brush him daily.

In other news, within 15 minutes of arriving back at work (two days late, mind you) I got an email that I have a one o’clock meeting with the department head. So now I’m all nervous because two contractors got laid off yesterday, and there was no meeting topic supplied. Watch, I’m probably getting laid off. Wouldn’t that be perfect.

Update: I went for my one o’clock. I walked in, said, “Ready?” and he said, “Can we do it at 3? I’m just swamped.”

I’m guessing I’m not getting laid off. Repurposed, more likely.

In which plans change. But only somewhat!

I’m going home tomorrow. I think. Unless something extraordinary happens in the next few hours.

The boys are going to stay on here and make the mad roofing money, and I’m going to go home (in the Exploder) and resume my geek day job… and see my dogs and cat and blue chicken and my girlfriends. God, my girlfriends.

The boys can fax me bids and I can still do in the evenings any Xactimate stuff they can’t do themselves and email it back.

I’m doing this because, well, I’m freaked about bills. Being owed money is not the same as having cash in hand, so I’m gonna go work because I am unwilling to not be able to pay my mortgage in three weeks.

The guy who owns the construction company here is out of town… again. The first time he was gone, it was because his mother was in critical condition after a heart attack or something. This time he’s gone because his father has died. Both fine reasons to be out of town, of course, and I’m very sorry for his loss, but he hasn’t appointed a second-in-charge so no checks are being written until he gets back. It’s typical of this operation: it’s exploding and totally disorganized.

In other news, I still haven’t finished writing the rest of my Amma post yet. But I will. It was so awesome seeing Her. So awesome. I love Her.

In which I get some.

Bread tossed BoSe out for awhile this afternoon and ravished me. Then we took a shower in the motel’s massive bath. Then he went out and didn’t come back; probably to Truck & Bowling Jesus’ room.

I started working on bids. I still have three to do, but here it is five in the afternoon already and I’m blowing the work off. What the hell happened to my work ethic? Once I didn’t put everything off to the very last moment.

Oh, wait, who the hell am I kidding? I’ve done everything at the last moment! *rolls eyes*

I’m so full of shit I even BS myself. Did you see that?

I went to Taco Bell for dinner because I hadn’t eaten all day and the left over, cold cheese pizza just wasn’t gonna hack it for me. I’ll probably drink the rest of the day’s calories in the form of mudslides.

The motel life honeymoon is over. Now I’m just bored and, once again, lonely. Surrounded by people, no one to talk to. What have I done to deserve such a dearth of female companionship?!

In which why the hell not.

Behold my incoherent ramblings! (Maybe next time I’ll use a script.) (Yeah, right.) (This stuff is way better when it’s off the cuff. At least, I like listening to the ones that are clearly random.) Enjoy!

Yes, I realize I’m a bit of a dork.

In other news, I’d spent some time trying to install this nifty WP audio plugin but it sucked so I aborted and am using AudioBlogger instead. Cause I’m lazy like that.

In which I’m back in Indy.

I drove up to Chicago — Oak Brook, actually — on Wednesday night. Saw Mother, ate a lot of Indian food. (I always eat like I’m starving when I go to see Amma.) Drove back this morning. Can I say that the stretch of Interstate called I-294/I-80 is a TOTAL PIECE OF FUCKED UP SHIT? Jesus.

Got maybe seven hours of sleep — total — while I was gone, and most of that was had in the back of the Exploder in the parking lot of a Marriott.

Rolled in here half past noon, saw the guys, cleaned the room and gave them shit about being sloppy pigs. Listened to them go on cheerfully about work, about this Sub 2 and that contract. Then they left to do a scope and I passed out in bed.

They rolled in a few hours later, giddy with the success of their trip to Sam’s Club, but I couldn’t be bothered to wake all the way up. I heard them stacking stuff on top of the TV cabinet; turns out it was two cases of water, a case of Red Bull, and a case of Frappuccino. And a wheel of brie. And stuffed salmon steaks.

When I did wake up, they returned, and sent me to the store. Then we BBQ’ed. I had salad, tuna, French bread and brie, and grilled french fries. I’d had nothing all day but caffeine so it was delicious and much needed.

Now it’s a quarter to ten and I’m reeeeeally sleepy. *Yawn.*

I’m writing a huge overview of my wonderful, restorative Amma trip, but it’ll have to wait ’til tomorrow to be posted ’cause it’s only half done and I don’t have it in me to finish it now.

In other news, I guess we’re staying on here in roofing land. Which means I have to email LISCO this weekend and tell them I won’t be back… for an indefinite period. I’m betting I’ll have to quit, but maybe they’ll rehire me when we get back.

In which it pays off!

One good thing about being an Internet fag hag — and I use the term ‘good’ as it applies to me: your mileage may vary — is that the gay boys tend to let me know what’s happening on the UK pop scene. Which means that even though you can’t even get George Michael‘s newest release through the US iTunes store yet, let alone in brick and mortar stores, I already have it.

Can I get a hell yeah?!

Thank you.

(I love George. He makes great pop. I say this without shame because I also love Miles Davis and I don’t give a shit who knows it.)

In other news, Bread and BoSe are out watching — I shit you not — powderpuff figure 8 bus racing somewhere. I’ve finished my 4th bid of the day, and now I’m gonna make myself a margarita, close the door and the curtains and shamelessly dance my ass off to some Brit pop on repeat. Ciao, babies!

Update: An Easier Affair is now my new current pop obsession. Yum. So bouncy! So poppy! Such an anthem to gayness… as if the gays got the market cornered on feeling disenfranchised. Basically if you take out the first verse, the rest of the song is an anthem for anyone who (a) loves pop/dance, and (b) has ever felt like a freak. Which is pretty much everyone I’ve ever met, with the possible exception of that cheerleader in high school who married the quarterback right after graduation, popped out a bunch of offspring, is now fat and depressed and counts high school as the ‘best years of her life.’ Which is truly the most hideous thing, ever. *shudder* High school! GACK!

In which we go to the airport.

Yesterday evening Bread, BoSe, Truck and I got into a motor vechicle and went in search of dinner. We ended up in the Mexican ghetto at a taqueria. Once I got the door open and stepped into the restaurant, an extraordinarily drunk man approached me…

…and promptly passed out on the floor. Hard.

No one in the joint even twitched.

I bent over to examine him — the floor was hard and he’d bounced his head right off of it — and satisfied myself that he wasn’t bleeding, convulsing, or puking. Then I straightened up, twitched my purse strap back up on my shoulder, and said, “Hard day, huh.”

A guy sitting alone at a booth with a beer and a basket of tortilla chips chortled. “Hard day,” he repeated. “Heh.”

We sat ourselves and ate Mexican food.

Then we went to downtown Indianapolis, bought coffees, and sat near the war memorial fountain and people-watched. I made friends with a horse who was working pulling a buggy around and around the circle.

Indianapolis, while kinda cute, didn’t particularly impress me. Indianapolis is closed on Sundays. There’s a few coffee shops and a lot of bail bondsmen open, but everything else is locked up tight. The war memorial park circle was full of tourists with cameras, which I expected, and middle-aged profilers on motorcycles, which I didn’t.

After collecting Bowling Jesus from the airport, we hopped on the Interstate and headed back to our motel. Bowling Jesus told us about his whirlwind trip to a family wedding. He said, and I fucking quote: “I got to dance naughty with my hot cousin.”

Which might be the white trashest thing I have ever heard in my entire life! I laughed so hard I nearly wet myself.