Let me tell you what life is like when I'm doing one of these statistics textbooks. I get up in the morning and try to get a little of it done before work. Then I work at my actual job, and at lunch I come home and work on my statistics book. After work? I work. Now, a grownup would say, "Oh, I don't have time to go to the movies two or three nights a week on top of that" but I do.
The good news is, because I know I have to leave my house at 7:15 p.m. to see these movies with Ned, I work like a DEMON for those two hours and get a lot more done than if I had all night. If I have all night, I Butterfly McQueen the CRAP out of my work. Tra-la-laaaa. Tote the weary load.... Oh, look, I read five pages in an hour. Great.
But I have to do these books, because I owe the government $2,000. Did I tell you that? From last year when I was unemployed. Whenever I got unemployment checks they didn't take out taxes. So. Yeah.
Anyway, this book I'm working on now, and the next one that's coming right after it, will likely get that paid, and also pay back various "we're nice relatives, let us help you in your unemployment" family members.
So with all that in mind, I asked you to tell me what to write about today, and I like how someone said, "Write about what the people are like at the movie theater you go to all the time" and I answered in the comments, "I really haven't NOTICED anything about the people in the theater" and everyone else was like, "Yeah! Do that!" after I'd ALREADY SAID I had nothing to SAY about that.
When I was a kid, I'd sit on my grandmother's lap and she'd rock me and sing songs. And I'd just call out stuff for her to sing about, assuming she had a song for everything. I ASSUMED this because no matter that I called out, she'd pull a song out her ass. I was about seven before it dawned on me she was making this shit up.
"Gramma, sing a song about blue."
"....Oh, blue. ...Is a color. Oh, a color. Oh, blue."
For those first six years, I was all, God, has she got a repertoire on her. That woman knows every song ever about anything. It's interesting that the Blue song and the Gray song have such similar lyrics. Must ask her about that next rock.
So that's how I felt about the theater patron request. YOU CAN'T GET BLOOD FROM A TURNIP, folks.
I will write down or print out or SOMETHING all your requests so I can address them all, but one of your requests was for how the pets are. I freaking love Iris. I love the crap out of her. But speaking of crap, she has been pooping on my chair--the angry chair, for those of you who've been around awhile. She was already peeing on stuff, and now this. There's nothing physically wrong with her.
I LOVE HER. But I cannot just live this way. It's disgusting. Does anyone have any suggestions? She has a condo, which helped for a long time. She has two litter boxes. I got her a plug-in that supposedly would calm her. And? Hello poop this morning on the angry chair. Advice, please.
Tomorrow I will tell you a good story from Ned's childhood, as someone asked for that, and IT KILLS ME and he might as well poop on the angry chair, so bad was he, so stay tuned tomorrow.