I absolutely did not forget.

Happy anniversary, sweet girl.

Tuesday night seems like such a long time ago, but I'm going to try to write something, and Tuesday night would be a good place to start, I suppose.

The entire day pretty much sucked, what with my cat dying and all. I also didn't get to see her at all, and even email contact ended abruptly at 5:30.

So, I went to Rich O's. On a Tuesday night. Weird, I know.

At first I sat in the throne, but people kept trying to talk to me, so I moved to the island once it had been vacated. I had a Schlenkerla Marzen (6193) and a little pizza. I did my best to hold myself together, and I suppose I did okay for a while.

Then people came and joined me at the island and started talking to me. Being too unmotivated to pick up my shit and move again, I stayed put where I was.

Oh, and by people I mean ElPresidente and FirstLady, though some other people stopped by from time to time. I spent most of the next four hours talking to ElPresidente - a conversation which can be summed-up as follows:

ElPresidente: You're still whining about that?

Me: Yes. Yes I am.

ElPresidente: Idiot.

And so it went. But it was still lots better than going home and having to watch my remaining cats search in vain for their missing friend. And I even had another Marzen (6210) to help take the edge off things.

Wednesday was, by my estimation, a million-bazillion times better. I was still sad about Happy, of course, but I found myself a very nice distraction. I didn't get to eat lunch, but I got to see her and play Santa Claus to her son, so it was a very fair trade.

After work I went back to Rich O's. I had myself a Rogue Hazelnut Brown Nectar (243), then I bought a growler of it to take with me. For the second time in only a few hours, I got to be distracted from this bullshit I use for a life. We had this alfredo stuff from Pizza Hut that I thought was very good. We each had a couple glasses of the Rogue (273).

Then on the way home I stopped at Rich O's again. I had a Marzen (6227) and had a nice little email conversation. I also had a nice actual conversation with OddlyFamiliarGirl, who surprised me by still being alive.

OddlyFamiliarGirl said some very nice things to me, and made me feel like an actual decent person. So that was nice of her.

Anyway, then I came home and successfully avoided calling out Happy's name when I walked in the door.

Yesterday I was going to write a long entry about my dead cat. I didn't write that entry, though someday I might. Also yesterday I wanted to write something about my dad. Yesterday was the 10th anniversary of his death. I didn't write that entry either.

Truth is, there's still only one thing on my mind these days. I am consumed by it, but I can't write about it.

Sucks to be me.

The call was a strange one. Not that the situation could ever be considered normal. Not by me, anyway. The vet probably makes calls like that a lot.

She got the results from Happy's blood tests. Not good. His kidneys were almost completely failed. He'd lost almost eight pounds since he was last weighed in September. And most of that weight loss was muscle mass. He was not diabetic, and his condition wasn't contagious to my other cats.

There wasn't any hope for long-term survival - that's pretty much what she told me.

Then she told me that he'd gone into cardiac arrest and died this morning when they were treating him.

Seems to me that she could have told me that in the first place.

I'm really not trying to be funny. It's just that this is going to hit me pretty hard before too long, and I wanted to write something before I lost my mind.

It would have been eleven years, on New Year's Eve. That's not nearly long enough.

Well my cat's appointment has been pushed back to 11:45, and he's sleeping at my feet. So now I've got an extra hour to kill.

What to do? What to do?

Oh hey, I'll try to write something!

---

She keeps saying that I'm bored. Not really accusing me, more like, "I'm sorry you're bored, Dave."

Like it's a foregone conclusion.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

Hmm, let's see what the opposite of bored is.

Encarta says it's fascinated. Sounds good to me.

And Thesaurus.com lists exhilarated, excited, interested, and enthusiastic.

Not sure I like those antonyms that much. They make it seem like the opposite of boredom is always a good thing. I mean, if you're on a plane that's crashing, you're probably not bored. But are you enthusiastic? Or if, like me, you're taking your beloved pet to the vet, and you're afraid that you're going to have to have him put to sleep, you're probably not bored, but are you excited?

I doubt it, unless you're even more weird than I am.

I have some words that I think of when she says that I'm bored. I think that I'm enthralled and mezmerized, or sometimes I might go with dispirited or pessimistic.

But not bored. Never bored.

We did end up hanging out for a while Sunday afternoon and evening. I can't write about that, though, except that I had a Barfly (140).

I've been saying that I've got this mood that I can't seem to shake. Well, that was wrong. It's not a mood that I get into, it's reverting to normal. That's why I haven't been able to shake it. Because it's not a mood at all, it's the way I am now. Instead of being a happy person with occasional bad moods, now I'm quite the opposite.

Anyway, after I'd reverted to normal last night, I stopped at Bearno's for a Newcastle. The keg blew, but the dude did manage to get most of a glass poured (11638).

Then I came home.

My cat Happy is very sick. He's going to the vet this morning, and I fear that I won't be bringing him home. I guess I'll know more by 11:00 or so.

I had a couple bottles of Newcastle (11662) last night while I tried to comfort Happy.

Well I ended up not taking a trip yesterday. The same lack of motivation I'd had about writing kept me from making up my mind about going anywhere until it was too late. So I just dicked around the house for the most part.

Then last night I got to do some stuff I can't write about, I guess except that I had a Marzen (6152) and three bottles of Barfly (128). And I think I did a pretty good job of keeping my thoughts where they belonged.

Today we might do something. Or we might not. It's kinda hard stupid to plan anything more than about five minutes ahead of time. As proof of that statement, I offer yesterday, and next weekend, and probably Thanksgiving. But it's okay. Spontaneity has its charms sometimes, and being penciled in is better than nothing.

A pen would be nice, though, every now and then. It would be nice to be worthy of a pen. The dipshit gets a fucking pen.

I'm supposed to write in this thing. That's pretty much what it's here for. Some days it's really hard to get motivated, though. That's what today is. I just don't feel like writing. Because of that, this is going to suck.

My life is a fucking lie. A play in which I'm forced to perform, and they forgot to give me my lines.

Lunch at this weird Lynn's Paradise Cafe place was nice. A little strained, I thought, but that's to be expected, what with everything going on and what with me being in this damn mood that I can't shake.

After work I tried to take a nap. It didn't take. I think I'm overly tired. Two or three hours of sleep per night for a week will do that to a person.

So then I went to Rich O's. I'd thought it might be a short visit, because sometimes I forget that hope is stupid and that I should stop having it. I ended up sitting at the kiddie table for four hours talking to OtherDave for a while, and ActualGeorge for a while longer. I tried to talk HatGirl into coming, but she was busy or sick of me or something.

I had a couple glasses of Schlenkerla Marzen (6135), which were quite good. I had a drawn-out email conversation, and that did help to make me feel a little better.

I stopped at White Castle on the way home. My jalapeno cheeseburgers were very yummy.

Oh yeah, remember how I found out yesterday that MixedSignalGirl wasn't dead? Well, last night I found out that NotHideousGirl wasn't dead, either, because she came in to Rich O's. So that was nice. And I got a couple of text messages from SassyGirl, and she wasn't dead either. I miss SassyGirl. I think I miss just about everyone. My own damn fault. I've almost totally isolated myself.

I want to take a trip today. I need to get away. But I probably won't.

Just a quick note to say that MixedSignalGirl isn't dead, and that I'm glad.

I called her this morning, sorta breaking our rule about things like that, but they had this big blizzard up where she lives, and I needed to know.

"Hi, Miss! Are you dead from the blizzard?" I asked.

"Nope, just driving to work in regular snow, not blizzard snow," she answered.

"Well, I'm glad you're not dead," I offered.

"Me, too," she replied. "I'll be sure and let you know if I die, though."

"Fair enough," I said, and then we chatted for a couple of minutes before we ended the call.

Anyway, whew!

Tonight I'm struck by the absurdity of all this. What's happening. What's not happening. It just doesn't seem right, for things to be the way that they are. While I was distracted, some kind of bizarro world materialized around me. I don't fit here, in this strange place. This absurd reality.

A movie about my life wouldn't make any sense. It would be impossible to figure out what was happening. Or who the protagonist was, or the villain, or the comic-relief. I think I might be all of those things.

You get told certain things as a child. Maybe you don't pay much attention, but you're told those things so often that the words sink deep into you, become a part of who you are, or at least who you want to be.

This isn't right. It doesn't make any sense at all. I don't fit here.

Good is bad, and bad is good. Love brings indifference, and indifference brings love.

I keep hoping that I'll wake up some morning, and things will be normal. The way they should be. That things will make sense. So I can feel like I belong.

It's a stupid and pointless thing for which to hope, I know. The world isn't going to change; it's going to have to be me.