In the last of my dreams last night, I was getting ready for work. I had wandered into the bathroom and was attempting to do something with my hair when I noticed that whole chunks were gone. I brushed my hair back with my hands, I found huge areas of my scalp were bare except for some dark ugly stubble.

Even now, in the light of day, remembering makes me feel slightly ill.

That dream, and that feeling, seem to have set the tone for my entire day.

I think when I go home I am going to make, and eat, a chocolate cake.

ADDENDUM the First: It was a pan of brownies instead of a chocolate cake. Brownies make almost anything better.

Way Number 823 to drive your significant other over the edge:

Keep saying ‘checks’ when you mean ‘deposit slips’

If they take me away, you’ll know whose fault it was.

I’m taking Slate to the vet after work, so they can do a blood draw and determine just what her problem is, and then we can decide what to do, which I fear will be the vet insisting that surgery is the way to go.

Ugh.

But for now know that I get to drive across town with the cat who has not yet gotten the message that when in the car the driver’s lap is not the place to be. Luckily, we will be driving neither far, nor fast. (No, the solution is NOT a cat carrier. Cat carriers make Slate violently ill. Besides, normally Michael is also in the car with the cats, so this is just a one time thing since Michael has class.)

Did I mention that she’ll talk the entire trip? She really likes the windows and comments upon everything she sees. Loudly.

At least I get to leave work half an hour early!

create your own visited states map

Okay, so I’ve actually been more places than I thought I had. Some states I’ve only driven through, but that still counts, right?
(via Old Oligarch’s Painted Stoa)

Addendum the First:
I’ve been to more states than S at Hillbilly Sophisticate, but she’s been to other countries.

You’re a Cardassian! Intelligent and devious,
you’re a bit of an enigma to those around you
and scientific to the core.
What Star Trek Race Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

I received an interesting e-mail yesterday about a post I made regarding a 1800s train safety poster.

Michele, who sent me the message, came across the poster herself and liked it. You can see for yourself here, although the smaller text is difficult to read.

After complaining (at least internally) about my dearth of vivid dreams, my mind has decided to compensate me, with a recent bombardment.

Most, however, have been extremely disjointed and strange, with only bits floating to the surface to make sense.

One bit from last night that stuck with me was with my ex-roomate Steve (aka Spam aka Bruce Lampshade). It was pleasant, if strange (he needed to borrow some pajamas) but thinking about Steve always makes me feel guilty. He was my roomate at a time when things weren’t going particularly well in my life, and I was a rude bitch to him. I apologized to him several years ago, which made me feel slightly better, but still that is one portion of my life that causes me to cringe in retrospect.

Makes me wonder why he appeared in my psyche at this point…

And why he needed my pajamas.

Jim Henley nails the Superbowl Hooplah.

No, I’m not going to even give you a teaser, just go read.

So we took the cats to the vet today. Yes, that’s right, three cats in the car, and we made it there and back again in one piece. Does that qualify us for some kind of medal or something?

Anyway, apparently Slate has hypothyroidism, and the doctor gave us three treatment otions: medication, surgery, or radiation.

But Slate is 18. Although the doctor seems to think that surgery is the best option, I am not sure that I want to put Slate through all that. Radiation, at $1400, is right out, but he said there may be side effects from the medication, and the medication would need to be given every day.

He seemed to be saying that she’ll decline, perhaps rapidly, if the condition goes untreated, but again, she’s 18. How much longer does she have?

I don’t know. We’ll talk to my parents, since she still is nominally their cat, and see what they have to say, but in the end I figure it will be up to us.

Erin has an interesting and thoughtful post on violence, specifically rape, in fiction and comics.

It’s an interesting, although disturbing, concept to consider. I know that Marion Zimmer Bradley typically would not accept rape and revenge stories for Sword & Sorcoress (among other story types she avoided) which is something for which I was grateful. But it does beg the question, why is the subject so much more discomforting.

Go read.

I’ve been mucking about with Movable Type. It’s possible I broke something, in which case, please let me know.

Must. Keep. Eyes. Open.

It’s painfully boring here. An entire day of sitting in the hall, except for the brief period of opening the lab up during lunch.

Mostly it’s because we got all excited about the weather, hoping that buckets of snow would fall and everything would close down and we’d get to stay home and sleep in.

No such luck. Instead, here I am at work, and then class this evening.

Not that I mean to complain, I do like my class, it’s just one of those days where, if you were a kid, you’d wander around going, “I’m BORED!” until your mom threw you out of the house.

I’m pretty sure that if I try that here, Gina will pummel me into insensibility.

Starting to sound tempting.

Dire Possible Weather! Stay Home! Snow is Predicted!

Whatever.

We haven’t had any snow fall since yesterday morning.

Had a lovely time yesterday–went to Fairmont to have a New Year’s dinner with Kim and Mike. Nothing big, just take-out from the Great Wall, but it was very nice since we hadn’t seen Mike since before Christmas. Came home and Michael fell asleep on the sofa. Or, as he put it, “I’m not sleeping. I’m listening.”

Yes, dear.

Today was spent on laundry and studying. Finishing the last chapter for my health policy class was like pulling teeth–the previous chapters were interesting. This chapter I may read before bed every night. Should put me right out.

The circumvention of powerful self-interest groups through the use of market mechanisms is, as said previously, a concession to the limitations of political power and planning in the conduct of complex and controversial changes.

This reads like something my brother would have liked, back when he used to delight in cornering us somewhere, and then telling us all about the tax treaty that the United States has with Guam.

My brother has moved on to more subtle forms of torture and torment than those he used when we were younger.

Elsewhere, Slate today snagged a piece of tofu off my plate as we were getting ready to eat, but after several minutes of licking and chewing, decided that perhaps she didn’t care for crispy bean curd in brown sauce after all.

Cats are weird.

And that’s about it, other than this from today’s comics:

ADDENDUM the First:
It started snowing! We’ll see what happens…

Lots of SNOW!

It started last night right about when I left work, and it’s still snowing just bit now, but now enough to count.