Most of you folks reading this blog know that I write about limited subjects like genealogy, cats, yarn, knitting, and dead people.
My dead people subjects are about people in my family, or Sugar’s family, that we are related to by blood or marriage. Sugar and I have had multiple outings and meetings that came about because of genealogy, but I don’t have to tell you about those things again, because you read the blog.
Something I have refrained from writing about is how I tend to bitch about stuff. Maybe you didn’t know that I could be a raging pain-in-the-ass. That’s not how I want to be remembered. I don’t want to write about current events or politics or work events.
This week has been an earth-shaker. I’m in a whirling rage about the school shooting that took place in Parkland, Florida. Seventeen people died.
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I woke up this morning, and I heard a crow call from a nearby field. And I thought, “Seventeen people will never hear a bird’s song again.” I’m discouraged that an ordinary civilian can get their hands on an AR-15. I don’t know very much about guns (so you gun people, if you’re out there, can bash me in the comments). I’ve shot a shotgun, and I won an award in college for marksmanship. It seems wrong that a weapon of wartime can be available to the public.
I don’t own a gun, and last year someone said to me, “Don’t you live alone? You need a gun.” My response is that I don’t need a gun; I’ll just throw a cat at an intruder. In truth, who would intrude here? I have nothing worth stealing. I have an iphone with a cracked screen. I have a 6-year-old netbook that is undependable. I have the response-time of a tortoise. Nobody is going to break in here. The door is always open. People think I’m crazy and they avoid me. I need a gun like I need another hole in my head.
I have no clue what my ancestors politics were.
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There have been some shake-ups going on at work for about a year. Some of the accounts have been put on hold for non-payment. The owner of the practice finalized his divorce and brought his girlfriend back into the workplace. Some of the higher-ups did away with direct deposit, and employees got paper checks at the end of the payday, which caused a disruption in work flow, since people were fleeing the building to deposit their checks. There has been anxiety, and frustration, and sadness, and anger. You can imagine the scenario.
Most recently, some of the paychecks bounced or were put on hold. Imagine that scene: your paycheck is put on hold for 10 days. By the time the check is good, it’s almost payday again.
Yesterday, we got a company-wide email that the Chief Operating Officer and the Human Resources manager had been let go, and that the assistant to the COO would be handling the finances and payroll, and that another manager would be handling Human Resources. And that the girlfriend would be assisting with company finances, not that she was named in the email as the girlfriend. But we all know that she is, even though we are not allowed to acknowledge this in the workplace for fear of losing our jobs, which actually happened to several people a few years ago when the relationship came to light.
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Last night, when I arrived home, Mr. Scruffy was crouched in the treehouse. I haven’t seen him in a few weeks, and I know that it is mating season. I have had a lot on my plate, and I haven’t attempted to set the trap. I rarely see him, and a trapping event would need a lot of coordination with Sugar and the vet clinic. Whatever. I didn’t do it.
I stayed in the car, and saw through the window that he looked like he was in bad shape. The cheek on his left side was almost degloved, and the skin was hanging and I could see the meat of his face. He called softly to me, and I got a can of food from the trunk of the car and popped it into a dish and slid the dish onto the treehouse. He was able to eat it. I went inside.
I lay down last night and couldn’t get up. I knew that I needed to set the trap, but didn’t have the strength to get up and do it, because I knew that I’d need to monitor it during the night, and I just didn’t have it in me to stay away. I was drained.
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This morning, he is missing. The people at the school in Parkland are dead. Two people at work are unemployed. Most of the employees are in despair that things are going to be better at work.
For the record, I hate what is happening to our country. It is crumbling under our feet.
And friends? I realize that I am preaching to the converted.