Putting Harold To Sleep
I want to call the animal rescue place and see if they provide the service of putting animals "to sleep," as I want to dispose of Harold the cat.
Nothing personal, he just isn't a very good pet and I have gotten sick of him. And I really believe that there is nothing special about any individual cat.
He is pretty one dimensional, doesn't really show affection; rather a demanding incessant meowing to be fed; and then insinuating himself upon me wanting to be scratched behind the ears, climbing on top of a book that I am in the middle of reading or jumping onto the table upon which I am doing a jigsaw puzzle trying to get its head near my hands so that I will scratch its fir. It's not interested in my face at all; neither licking it or rubbing its own face against it. It doesn't really purr that much, hardly does that dough kneading motion that most cats do, and will claw me to get away from any sudden noise or another resident who might emerge into the hallway without warning, as if it is afraid of both of us equally.
And, the 77 cents every single day for a can of food for him is a rip off. I have had cats in the past that I have like a lot more, ones that almost seemed to think that they were human and we were all family. Harold seems selfish by comparison; -feed me, scratch me, and then let me outside. I'll let you know when I'm hungry again, probably when you get back from playing, by incessantly meowing; and then we can repeat the process.
Plus, I don't want to feel tethered to the apartment, having to find a babysitter for the thing, should I want to take a jaunt somewhere.
I'm going to borrow a cat carrier from Rose, without telling her what it is for and then just bring the thing to the pound and let them give it that quick, painless injection. I'm sick of looking at it and hearing it tear up my imitation leather chair with its claws right before scratching at the door to disappear outside for half a day. It has the personality of a skeezer.
Plus, it could impregnate cats in the area and exacerbate the stray cat problem. They are almost as prolific as bums in our neighborhood.
Putting Myself To Sleep
I was woken up this (Wednesday) morning by a phone call from Rose and Ed, whom I bought the TV off of for 40 bucks, with the verbal agreement that I would pay 20 this month and the balance next month.
Yesterday, Rose called and asked for 5 bucks, saying that she was out of cigarettes. I gave her the only 5 bucks that I had, though she didn't want to take my last 5 bucks. I had cigarettes, new batteries and guitar strings and food, and so I really didn't need the money.
This afternoon, the phone rang again. I had only made 4 bucks busking Tuesday night, and had spent some of it on a can of cat food and a lottery ticket. It was Rose, saying that their SUV was out of gas and that they had to go to Algiers to pick up Ed's medication. I told her that I only had 2 dollars and 30 cents. She said that Ed would be right down to get it.
So, for the second straight day, I put whatever money I had into paying for the TV.
Ed said that he would give me the money back later on in the day, as he was going to sell a pill or two, but that never happened. That is the first breach of contract in dealing with them over the TV.
I could have stayed out and played longer Tuesday night, after I had only made 4 bucks, but I was really in a nasty mood, hating everyone and not wanting to entertain them in the least. I think my homegrown weed has something wrong with it. It puts me in a fog in which I will start playing a song and then think "why am I doing this song?"and then "why am I out here playing at all?"
I had a feeling that Rose and Ed were going to ask for money; it is getting towards the end of the month for them. I thought about that when I decided to knock off after only making 4 bucks.
Wednesday night was the same thing. I felt like I hated everyone's guts; from the skeezers sitting around the apartment building, to the imaginary muggers lurching in the tall grass along the bike path into the Quarter; to the skeezers stationed every hundred yards or so along the streets on the way to the Lilly Pad. I had the beginnings of a headache from what I can guess is the dairy products in the Java Monster coffee energy drink, which is basically the first cows milk that I have consumed in at least a couple months. The "tension headache" which came on in the ensuing couple hours didn't help matters, as I realized that I was running my spotlight batteries down and dulling my brand new strings for a handful of people that I just didn't feel connected with. In fact, I hated their guts. I had a slight headache, after all.
So, I haven't investigated putting my apartment up for rent on Craig's List yet. Xavier the cashier at Rouses Market suggested that I look in the section for people looking to rent places here, and see what they are offering, before I set my price.
Ed told me that, based upon the cheapest hotel being at least 400 bucks on a weekly rate, I should ask for closer to that amount to make it worth my while. A really obnoxious guest could make 100 dollars seem insufficient, whereas, for 300 bucks, I could almost endure sleeping outside for a whole week.
I can't imagine what kind of behavior out of a guest would drive me to that; but them perhaps spending hours talking loudly on their phone when I'm trying to sleep comes to mind; but probably only if they were saying "Ya HEARD me?" in between every statement.
I'm going to "vet" every potential guest, to use the newfangled political term.
I want to call the animal rescue place and see if they provide the service of putting animals "to sleep," as I want to dispose of Harold the cat.
Nothing personal, he just isn't a very good pet and I have gotten sick of him. And I really believe that there is nothing special about any individual cat.
He is pretty one dimensional, doesn't really show affection; rather a demanding incessant meowing to be fed; and then insinuating himself upon me wanting to be scratched behind the ears, climbing on top of a book that I am in the middle of reading or jumping onto the table upon which I am doing a jigsaw puzzle trying to get its head near my hands so that I will scratch its fir. It's not interested in my face at all; neither licking it or rubbing its own face against it. It doesn't really purr that much, hardly does that dough kneading motion that most cats do, and will claw me to get away from any sudden noise or another resident who might emerge into the hallway without warning, as if it is afraid of both of us equally.
And, the 77 cents every single day for a can of food for him is a rip off. I have had cats in the past that I have like a lot more, ones that almost seemed to think that they were human and we were all family. Harold seems selfish by comparison; -feed me, scratch me, and then let me outside. I'll let you know when I'm hungry again, probably when you get back from playing, by incessantly meowing; and then we can repeat the process.
Plus, I don't want to feel tethered to the apartment, having to find a babysitter for the thing, should I want to take a jaunt somewhere.
I'm going to borrow a cat carrier from Rose, without telling her what it is for and then just bring the thing to the pound and let them give it that quick, painless injection. I'm sick of looking at it and hearing it tear up my imitation leather chair with its claws right before scratching at the door to disappear outside for half a day. It has the personality of a skeezer.
Plus, it could impregnate cats in the area and exacerbate the stray cat problem. They are almost as prolific as bums in our neighborhood.
Putting Myself To Sleep
I was woken up this (Wednesday) morning by a phone call from Rose and Ed, whom I bought the TV off of for 40 bucks, with the verbal agreement that I would pay 20 this month and the balance next month.
Yesterday, Rose called and asked for 5 bucks, saying that she was out of cigarettes. I gave her the only 5 bucks that I had, though she didn't want to take my last 5 bucks. I had cigarettes, new batteries and guitar strings and food, and so I really didn't need the money.
This afternoon, the phone rang again. I had only made 4 bucks busking Tuesday night, and had spent some of it on a can of cat food and a lottery ticket. It was Rose, saying that their SUV was out of gas and that they had to go to Algiers to pick up Ed's medication. I told her that I only had 2 dollars and 30 cents. She said that Ed would be right down to get it.
So, for the second straight day, I put whatever money I had into paying for the TV.
Ed said that he would give me the money back later on in the day, as he was going to sell a pill or two, but that never happened. That is the first breach of contract in dealing with them over the TV.
I could have stayed out and played longer Tuesday night, after I had only made 4 bucks, but I was really in a nasty mood, hating everyone and not wanting to entertain them in the least. I think my homegrown weed has something wrong with it. It puts me in a fog in which I will start playing a song and then think "why am I doing this song?"and then "why am I out here playing at all?"
I had a feeling that Rose and Ed were going to ask for money; it is getting towards the end of the month for them. I thought about that when I decided to knock off after only making 4 bucks.
Wednesday night was the same thing. I felt like I hated everyone's guts; from the skeezers sitting around the apartment building, to the imaginary muggers lurching in the tall grass along the bike path into the Quarter; to the skeezers stationed every hundred yards or so along the streets on the way to the Lilly Pad. I had the beginnings of a headache from what I can guess is the dairy products in the Java Monster coffee energy drink, which is basically the first cows milk that I have consumed in at least a couple months. The "tension headache" which came on in the ensuing couple hours didn't help matters, as I realized that I was running my spotlight batteries down and dulling my brand new strings for a handful of people that I just didn't feel connected with. In fact, I hated their guts. I had a slight headache, after all.
So, I haven't investigated putting my apartment up for rent on Craig's List yet. Xavier the cashier at Rouses Market suggested that I look in the section for people looking to rent places here, and see what they are offering, before I set my price.
Ed told me that, based upon the cheapest hotel being at least 400 bucks on a weekly rate, I should ask for closer to that amount to make it worth my while. A really obnoxious guest could make 100 dollars seem insufficient, whereas, for 300 bucks, I could almost endure sleeping outside for a whole week.
I can't imagine what kind of behavior out of a guest would drive me to that; but them perhaps spending hours talking loudly on their phone when I'm trying to sleep comes to mind; but probably only if they were saying "Ya HEARD me?" in between every statement.
I'm going to "vet" every potential guest, to use the newfangled political term.
I don't blame you for wanting to get rid of the cat. The people I work for have an elderly cat who sheds fur all over, loves to paddle around in her water dish and then walk around to get plenty of dirt etc on those wet paws, then walk on any computer keyboard she can get to, and she's a constant source of fleas, which my friends like every cat owner ever, insist are not there. I cleaned the table in the living room that the cat likes to hang out on when no one's around and got - along with lot of hair and dirt - tons of flea droppings. These look like coffee grounds and are a sure indication that a cat *really* has fleas. I find fleas on my legs all the time too but I got a bottle of some stuff with DEET in it today and will apply it before going there. Cats are a big pain in the ass.
ReplyDeleteNow I'm going to go on about TVs and skeezers. I've learned, the hard way, that it's just not good to get into any financial transactions with skeezers. The worst kind of transaction is one of these "pay over time" deals. But it's even bad when it's a one-time transaction. Say you sell 'em a carton of cigs you find, because it's not your brand, so you sell 'em to the skeezers for $30 and they hand you two $20's and they hand you back a $10. Sure as shootin' they're gonna come back a few days later and it'll be: "Say, I didn't pay attention that day but I counted my money later and I swear you only gave me back a $5" or "Hey, I gave you a $50 for the cigs, remember? And you gave me back that $10, the one with the political statement stamped on it, so you owe me another $10..." And Woe be you if you don't fork over that extra money because otherwise they'll practically take out an ad in the paper saying you're a cheat and a short-changer...
ReplyDeletePayment-over-time transactions are worse because the drama can even be more drawn-out, and thanks to the miracles of sloppy bookkeeping, that TV can never be really paid for. Depending on how much you owe on the TV, you might be ahead if you just give it back and tell them to just keep what you gave 'em and happy trails. Then all you'll have to do is cope with their bitching about how you ruined Channel 237 on it or something.
On being a hotelier: If you're going to rent your room out you'll do well to get good at washing sheets and towels, or at making the renter do theirs. Better be able to lay on at least a "continental" breakfast while you're at it, and in self-defense better be able to make a decent pot of coffee - some people are really grouchy until they've had their cup of Joe.
ReplyDeleteI still am amazed you'd get away with this in public housing like you're in, but if you can do it, more power to you. The possibility of my visiting there is pretty far off. And if I do, I may decide to spring for a "real" hotel because there's just something about a nice clean hotel room at the end of a day.
But my busking has to be really on point before I go there because I want it to be a "working" holiday, to test the waters.