Tuesday. Mr. Wuss has just thrown up on the rug and now he's wandering from room to room mewing. He jumps up on the desk and looks closely into my face, then he mews, then he wanders around again room to room and then he visits his cat box. I can hear it going through its rake routine behind me. Pain? They say cats hide pain. He's looking up at me now from the floor in seeming expectation, now jumps up on the desk and stands between me and the monitor, settling down finally on my forearm as I'm typing. He's purring. Is this something I should be watching? He's been eating like a horse (albeit a small horse) and he's filled out some over these last months. I know no more about Mr. Wuss' health than I know about my own. Such is life here in Oakland.
That's a little alarmist. Wuss has been sitting on my lap now copping pets and back of the ear scratches as I sit listening to the news, zoned out playing Freecell, a game invented by the devil.
Wednesday, after work, the usual suspects in attendance. Wuss has wolfed down a half can of cat food without throwing up on the rug, although he's repeated his mewing routine. He's out on the balcony now as I'm running a load of wash and wondering what in the hell I'm going to do for photographs. I dropped off a roll at the camera shop today and see that I have another roll in the second camera with 26 shots that were taken at the San Francisco Chinese New Year parade. Half the roll I dropped off today was taken at the parade, so you can see how little shooting I've been doing.
Not to worry. I've been having the urge recently to go out and find a new apartment or a loft,
at least check out what's available and where, and get on with things. I've actually been thinking of buying a condominium somewhere within walking distance of the downtown, but that will depend on how the job and the bonus and the wind blows and too many other things to plan with any certainty, but at least I can do spreadsheets and calculations and see what, if anything, I can afford and just get on with it. Tighten up, and if there's no bonus, then put money aside for as long as it takes, pay off the 401k loan, put together a down payment (another 401k loan), sell my soul to the banks and just buy something. No more worries about having to move because the landlord is returning or rent going ballistic, just the usual worries about making the mortgage every month and still eating, here in real estate hell, at the end of the rainbow.
And maybe I can't swing it. And maybe I don't want to swing it. So what? I'll still find something with a big room where I can set up the computers and the light stands, something with large windows and decent light to shoot pictures.
I heard on the news this evening that Hillary Clinton's brother received $300,000 in fees to lobby his brother-in-law for pardons that were granted on the last day of his presidency. Who in the fuck are these people?