Today we learned that Miss Erzabet No Biting really, REALLY doesn't like going to the vet. After the vet tech took the kitty carrier into the back to hose it down, and gave me some kitty baby wipes to clean Erzabet up, the vet came in and said, "So, let's give the poor kitty some Xanax so she doesn't have white-knuckle the rest of the visit".
'Heart Of Gold'
Natter 73: Chuck Norris only wishes he could Natter
Off-topic discussion. Wanna talk about corsets, duct tape, butt kicking, or physics? This is the place. Detailed discussion of any current-season TV must be whitefonted.
I wonder if the vet slugged back a Xanax, too! Poor kitty!
Nah, this is our vet we've been going to for years. She's dealt with worse. And she told us the next time we need to bring Erzabet in, remind the front desk to call in a RX for kitty Xanax so we can keep her calm before the appointment.
But now she's happily conked out in a sunbeam.
Tep, I'm glad it wasn't just me who found twenty-nine The Longest Freaking Year of my life because of all the "jokes" and whatnot. It took out whatever sting there was in being 30.
To my great horror and woe, I may have discovered that mashed potatoes, long my faithful prop in sad times and a comfort when no other food will do, have betrayed me. For two meals in a row, a lovely helping of mashed potatoes were part of my "complete" meal, and for several hours afterwards, I've fought off massive sleepiness and been worthless for doing anything productive. So it's not the turkey from Thanksgiving dinner, it's the spuds. Oh delectable taters, with butter and sour cream and cheese and bacon bits! How you have wounded me!
Oh, Connie, the injustice of it all. My sympathies; it's a terrible thing to see a once-favourite food turn to the Darkly Mashed Side.
tommyrot, I got the whole story from this link. It's a book excerpt.
...is there a way to read a WSJ story if you're not a subscriber?
Google the article title, follow the link from there.
Ants have sent a reconnaissance mission into the house. I found one crawling on my monitor, got him on my hand and returned him to the wilds of the front porch, where his fellows are busy cleaning up the remains of a spilled Mountain Dew. Then I found a couple more ants inside, and now my goodwill towards them is gone. I don't see a line of them coming in though, I think a few just came in on my shoes or something. But now I feel ants crawling all over me.
My sympathies, Karl. It's always hard.