Well, Mocha's law does state that: "Any sufficiently strong coffee is indistinguishable from magic".
Natter .44 Magnum: Do You Feel Chatty, Punk?
Off-topic discussion. Wanna talk about corsets, duct tape, or physics? This is the place. Detailed discussion of any current-season TV must be whitefonted.
Tom is a true believer.
Sean may not be going to hell, but without caffeine, how could he tell?
We've secretly switched Jess' coffee with pixie dust.
No, no, we need to boycott pixie dust. Everybody knows that it is made by catching, plucking the wings off of, freeze-drying, and grinding up pixies. All this intensive labor is performed by exploiting non-unionized elf labor. Not to mention the environmental consequence of dumping all of those toxic pixie wings.
No, no, we need to boycott pixie dust. Everybody knows that it is made by catching, plucking the wings off of, freeze-drying, and grinding up pixies. All this intensive labor is performed by exploiting non-unionized elf labor. Not to mention the environmental consequence of dumping all of those toxic pixie wings.
If only we had listened when the talking psychic parrots tried to warn us....
If only we had listened when the talking psychic parrots tried to warn us....
Or we should have called the psychic parrot hotline.
I am losing my mind.
So this morning I freaked because when I pinched Mister Kitty's skin, it didn't snap back and was worse non-snappy than it was the day before. I've seen him drink only twice since saturday, he's still barely eating (I now have so many different varieties of stinky food that he won't eat it isn't funny) so I took him back in. Classic dehydration symptoms.
His bloodwork is perfectly normal. Vet will call later to talk to me. Tech didn't know right off (she didn't have his chart) whether they fluided him or not.
I'm just...torn between thinking I COMPLETELY FUCKING OVERREACTED and great, mystery illness, wasting away, etc.
I should never ever ever have children.
And I just realized I forgot to ask if I can pick him up tonight.
I haf no fone skilz.
Oh, poor Sara, and poor Mr. Kitty. I hope you can take him home tonight.
If it helps any, I spent half the day yesterday convinced that while I was at work the dog would have somehow knocked over the new bookshelf and crushed herself beneath and I would come home to find her dead or dying on the floor, whimpering pitifully.
Me coming in the door: "Why, you're not crushed even a little bit!"
[Not meant to be flippant, I really hope they can sort Mr. Kitty out right quick.]
I think you were completely right to bring him in. Those kind of symptoms aren't something to ignore. Poor Mr. Kitty. Still vibing for you both.