No, I am not asking for money.
What I am asking is this; Can anyone foster my two dear cats for a short time? Yes, I am willing to travel to bring them to you and I will of course, compensate you for their food and litter. Augh, I really hate to do this, but I’m seriously desperate.
Here’s what’s going down; About a month ago, my landlord came to me and asked me to vacate my flat by April, because his son is graduating and he wants the space.
This is understandable, but . . . it puts me in a shit of a mess.
The problem is, I quite literally can not afford to live ANYWHERE else (said landlord was a friend and cut me a pretty sweet deal). I am barely making ends meet with my bills as is . . . At this point, I can not even afford to share rent with someone, and even if I could, everything I’ve seen has said ‘No Pets’.
. . . Now, I could afford rent (possibly) if I were to get a full-time job, but there simply isn’t anything. I’ve been looking, sending out resumes where I can, but I’m either not qualified, or I am not called back. I could also probably afford rent more easily (and find more job opportunities) elsewhere, but at present, I have several obligations tying me here and can not relocate at least for the next five months or so.
My last resort? Parents’ basement. Yes . . . I know . . .
But even then, well, my dad is allergic to cats.
TEAL DEER: I am looking for someone who can foster my two lovely boys for a short time. I had two offers, but one person has come into some health issues recently and I simply can’t ask it of her, and the other has a dog whom I’m not sure will mesh with the boys.
Ru and Zekiel are two and a half years old . . . They are both bobtails (Ru is the tuxedo and Zeke is the siamese). Ru is skinny and playful and Zekiel and is plump and cuddly. They love people and will greet you at the door when you come home.
Zeke is a snugglebug at night and Ru demands attention by day, but all he asks of you is a dragged string. They both do tricks for treats.
I know this might be considered unorthodox, but my situation has only gotten worse despite my best efforts and like I said, at this point, I am desperate. These cats were already in a shelter once . . . It would kill me to put them back in it again.
Please, if anyone could give them a safe place to roost for a while, I’d be most grateful. Thank you so very much . . .
Archive for February, 2012
. . . I’m not Catholic, but I could have quite easily been saying a few of those myself, today, for I had to do a great deal of driving in some torrential rain.
For those who do not know me well, please allow me to explain; I hate driving . . . I bloody-arsing hate it so very, very much. Suffice it to say, adding rain to the mix is enough to make me shit enough bricks, nay, enough CINDERBLOCKS . . . Agh. Empires could be built upon and with the bricks-slash-cinderblocks from my driving excursions.
Public transportation is in serious need of a splashy, revolutionary comeback. Perhaps later I shall dig out my wee-jee board and try to contact a certain Mr. Brunel for advice. Hnnngh . . . MY (ISAMBARD) KINGDOM FOR AN (IRON) HORSE.
Ouch. Right in the rosary.
Back at work, today. And the aforementioned dread sale was extended . . . The words ‘kill me with fire” were uttered more than once. Embarrassing confession; I have a nervous stutter rooted in deep hibernation a good ways into the thick of my constitution. It seldom rears its head, except under woeful duress, and even then, I can usually rein it in, somewhat.
. . . This sale brought it out full force. I quite literally had this conversation with an elephantine bitch on fire- er, customer at one point;
ME: (following many questions (and even more bad attitude from said customer) “Yes, this fixture c-comes with a g-g-guarantee, er, I mean a l . . . a l . . . A life-time warantee f-from the the f-factory-”
CUSTOMER: “Fine, I’ll take it.”
ME: “Sure, only this p-particular model isn’t in st-t-tock . . . We will have t-to take down the f-floor model and wr-rrrap is for you and t-that might take a while b-because we’re so busy-”
CUSTOMER: “How long?”
ME: “I-I c-c-can have it ready in t-t-thirty minutes . . .”
CUSTOMER: “THAT’S A LONG TIME FOR ONE LITTLE FIXTURE.”
ME: “Yes, s-sorry . . . It’s qu-quuuite busy.”
(meanwhile the six-tier wedding cake that is the crowd in the store is milling about plenty noisily and obviously, demanding service and huffing when they aren’t seen to immediately because there are three people ahead of them.)
ME: ” . . . D-do you h-have any more qu-questions?”
CUSTOMER.: “Not for you.”
. . .
Take fixture down, bring to boxing area, weep into the bubble wrap for approx. fourteen seconds, package fixture, sell to customer, contemplate seppuku.
But! In better news, there was glorious, glorious Vivaldi on the radio almost all blummen’ day. Unnngh Vivaldi knitting magic and wonder into my wee heart. And in my state of shameful weakness, I also splurged . . . I almost never buy things for myself, but today I could not resist;
. . . I get a half-off employee discount, so I could nay resist. It’s tiny, perfect for my desk, and with the veritable fountain of swearwords which vesuvius’ed out of me this morning, I can use all of the damn zen I can get :O
Again, my apologies for the spotty updating. Good mad trousers, things are crazy right now . . . Thankfully, I found a much-needed temporary escape from the buffet of unfortunate conflict which I am currently being force-fed. For the past week, I have been on a veritable potpourri of public transportation for to visit my K. and spend Valentine’s week-end with her, as well as having some pallyrally with her fabbity mates. Many thanks for making me feel welcome! You are all beautiful, beautiful people. And of course, I miss you already, my K., my pickledarls. Sigh, drink tea, cry.
I came home, hit the ground running and jumped back into work . . . Right as we are having a massive, mad sale. Now, I have never worked retail before this job. In my numerous previous jobs, I have worked for individuals, at home, or with children or animals . . . And now, having experienced firsthand the woeful durm and strang-ish melee of a three-day sale in which everything in the store is nearly half off . . .
. . . I NEVER WANT TO BEHOLD THE FACE OF ANOTHER HUMAN BEING EVER AGAIN.
::retreats into the corner to chew on shadows and growl at the world at large::
Whoo . . . Guess where my arse is right now?
. . . My arse is parked (albeit squirmingly) on a chair across from the Cajun Grill at Union Station in Chicago. I am ensconced within a nine hour layover en route to visit my K. at college . . . And I am bursting for a piss. I have been for a good three hours, too, but I didn’t want to get up. It took a while to find a seat with an outlet and I don’t want to lose it till this update is posted . . . Unnghghgh ::tortureface::
Highlights from the trip so far include;
~Delicious falafel and marinara wrap for dinner
~ Bantering about college, history and literature with a half-drunken gentleman named Thomas at about midnight (the poor oik promptly fell dangerously near faceward upon rising from the table).
~ Reading Wuthering Heights and working on a dumb fancomic for it entirely on a yellow sticky-notes pad.
~ Seeing two smartly dressed chaps who were either gangsters or mennonites snuggling in their sleep on the train.
~ The fact that I am within dashing distance of the lavvy whenever I deign surrender to my bladder and give up my post . . .!
. . . Thanks for your patience with me in updating once a week as opposed to twice, as of late. As I mentioned, there is simply too much tumult for too little time, recently. I may need to take this next Monday as well, but . . . We shall see. And yes, do forgive me if the quality of this page has suffered as I result of my being wracked by the Nee’ Ta Wee dance. Good Lord . . . O_o
Won’t be updating on Monday. Too much is happening too quickly. See you Friday! Much love, kisses and all such jazz.
In other news . . . This. Just . . . this;