A Concise Telling

Hello my lovelies.

Shall I regale you with my continuing saga of ordeals, making my unremarkable life a series of events one can only coin as "unfortunate".

I don't remember if I mentioned, but my parents have gone on holiday and I am house sitting for them, spending time like a single lady with a cat. I had procrastinated most of Sunday and Monday away, the most productive thing I had done was write a few words of fic, send out a few resumes and set up a job interview.

The job interview was set for today and there's not much to say about it. The interviewer wasn't impressed by me and so when I get the call back, the rejection shan't sting. Still, as my sister told me as she coached me, "have fun and gain experience". It was fun to dress up and look around a be utterly out of league when it came to this kind of place of employment - high end kitchen design halls just aren't for me I guess.

However, prior to the interview I lamented the fact that my good pants were in the wash and I had no decent shoes!

[Sexy!Roommate], bless her, works a hop and a skip away from my home town and she very generously brought me my good shoes from our flat up north.

I was out of the house for two hours or so.

When I returned, it was like a scene out of Titanic.

My red All-Stars were soaked as I stepped into a puddle of water and I literally gasped. I just, could not believe what I was seeing. I followed the water to my parents' bedroom.

My mother's Crocs were floating.

The pipe of the en-suite sink had burst and was spraying water everywhere.

Every-fucking-where.

I had to call my neighbours to help me turn on the mains for the water and I was holding it together by a thread. A thread.

By the time the plumber came I'd already cried to my parents over the phone - they tell me they are proud of me, that I handled things well. God, I hope I'm never in a real flood or other natural disaster, I would not do well, I tell you!

That said, I did my best to scoop the water - but the carpeting in their room was soaked, as was the carpeting of my childhood bedroom. It was pretty horrific.

There's something poignant and tragic about taking pictures of ruined pillows, boxes and pictures to send off to the insurance company.

And today, the plumber returned to repair and rip up the carpets - had this happened in July or August, we may had been tempted to air our the rooms and let the carpets dry, but in March it's still too chilly and damp.

The cat, of course, is utterly stressed out. He shat all over the place and I've mopped up the floor twice already. It doesn't help that he's old and has a cough. I'm taking him to the vet tomorrow for the first time in... many years. He's a very anxious and indoors-y creature, he doesn't do well with these things, if we're going to understate things.

It's funny, when I spoke to my mother she asked me if I had blogged about my exploits and I said, no, I hadn't. I wasn't sure whether this would read as hilarious anecdote or an over share of pity. I suppose it's a bit of both.

When speaking of all the above to my siblings I reiterated that I must be cursed. How does all this plumbing shit happen to one person, over and over again, in less than six months?

My eldest sister suggested I become a plumber - in my addled mind - that idea is beginning to sound pretty damn good. Don't think I haven't been looking at technical colleges!

I have another job interview lined up soon.

I march on. One soggy socked foot at a time.

Back From The Vet

Wish, my cat, has asthma.

I headed out at around half past eight this morning to get a vet from the clinic to help me take him there.

The poor boy was having a nap when I brought him downstairs to the waiting cage. It wasn't that terrible, he weed on me, but that's to be expected - the old man was utterly stressed out.

Once the vet gave him a shot to drowse him, he made noises reminiscent of Darth Vader, wheezing and gurgling. He sounded like an old man with emphysema. Once we arrived and the head of the clinic took a look at him and pronounced him "Very bad shape."

Cue the tears.

So there I was, sitting in the waiting room, crying my eyes out, under the impression that my cat is all but dead on his feet.

I called my brother, who is the only other sibling who loves the cat because he was living at home when Wish came to live with us (my older sisters were already out on their own, so they have no special feeling towards Wish). I called my brother, and he rushed over from work and sat with me for half an hour, and I'm really happy he did.

At around half past 10 the head vet came out to let us know that Wish is in the oxygen saturation chamber and that we should be able to take him home soon. They also gave me a prescription for the asthma, all of which he should be able to take with his daily wet food snack.

So we waited and the vet said his breathing was still bad so he wanted to keep him in for a few more hours.

And here we are. My cat is still at the vet and I'm still crying my eyes out, because this is the longest he's been our of the house since he was fixed as an older kitten, over 14 years ago.

My parents are abroad and my brother couldn't stay and now I don't know what to think about it all.

Home and Back Again

Wish is home!

Not only is he home, he bolted out of the carry cage, went to sit in his litter box, came out to munch on some of his kibble and when I stuffed his medicine in his wet food, he chomped it up!

OMG!

I'm so relieved!

Thank you to everyone who commented or otherwise communicated with me over the day.

It has been harrowing.

I really hope he doesn't have to see the vet again.

Just... wow...

Now I feel like I can actually eat a whole pizza! Lucky, my bff will be feeding me just that tonight.