Yeah, Mental Unhealth Day

kitten with finger for scale
Originally uploaded by mygothlaundry

Last night A came over with a basket. Inside the basket was the small one pictured here, who is 9 weeks old and yet to be named although we're leaning towards either Pebble or Issa, with me leaning toward Issa and young M leaning towards Pebble. We do not know if Pebble/Issa is a boy or a girl. We do know that s/he is curious, friendly, adorable and simply too cute for words. The dogs are beginning to wag their tails, even, although it's a little fraught and we're trying to keep them separated which is already not working all that well, since Django keeps leaping over the gate and Pebble/Issa keeps going under it and, if the door is closed, wailing plaintively until s/he is released.

Anyway. A brought the kitten over and then we had a couple drinks and she noticed that Django was limping which I at first poo pooed and then noticed too and so it was decided that I had to go to the vet today. My landlord had emailed me yesterday that the chimney sweep was coming by today at 10 so I called in late to work and called the vet and waited for the chimney sweep. The vet can't see Django until 2:30 so after the sweeps left I thought I could go to work for a couple hours at least and I got into the shower. The water in the tub is backed up again but that, I thought, was no big deal.

Wrong. There was a series of menacing Glub Glub Glub noises going on which I thought was a little disconcerting but probably coming from the tub drain. Wrong again. I got out and saw small tsunamis coming from the toilet bowl, whence the Glubbing was emanating. Not good. And then it started making even creepier sounds and then I tried to flush it and it filled to the brim with water. Hurray.

So I gave up on going to work and I put on grubby vet suitable clothes and called the landlord and waited for him. Alas, he didn't want to call a plumber so the plumber did not come, and given the fact that the plumber has not, obviously, accomplished much the last five times he's been here, no loss. My landlord came with a plunger and of course then the toilet worked but he plunged it a bit anyway and then told me that if the toilet got messed up again to make sure and fill the bathtub with water before I plunged the toilet, using some arcane reasoning that I, not really all that good at the intricacies of plumbing, do not understand. Also, even though I now own two plungers, I have kind of had it with plunging a toilet I don't even really own. Then he left and I let young M out of his room where he had been hiding keeping Pebble/Issa silent, since I am not supposed to have a cat, although I pretty much feel that I wasn't supposed to have rats, either, so fuck that.

You know, I can take a hint from the fucking house gods, I swear I can, and I'm trying to get out of here just as fast as I can. I'm waiting to hear if my offer was accepted on the house I want and oh, house gods, please, I will leave this house and its plumbing of doom and rats and smoking chimney like a flash if you will just let me get that beauteous hippie palace. And I will bring my kitteh with me.

UPDATE: Django tore part of his toenail off. Then it got infected. Finding all this out plus meds plus flea meds plus just, you know, walking into the vets office cost me $227.61. Holy shit. That's one expensive hangnail.