The Cat Will Play

I wrote almost nothing last week. I was too busy at work since Jeanine took the week off to have spring break with her kids and I did the job of two people. Also, went to the dentist (I have three million cavities.) and the pulmonary doctor to get set up to have a CPAP machine brought to the house (I'm sure the technician will be scarred for life or at least severely traumatized by the squalor.) sometime in the next two weeks. I had to battle the stupid insurance company in order to be seen.

I swear, life was in many ways easier when we were totally broke and on welfare. Medicaid paid for everything, no co-pay, no battles with insurance. My previous battle with Weyland's dental insurance company really made me feel life was easier being dirt poor and letting Uncle Sam pay everything. Aetna DMO feels Weyland, at 9 years old, is not a child, and so will not approve having a pediatric dentist. So Weyland can't be sedated, which means no dental care whatsoever because the fraidy cat won't sit still for a shot of novacaine. I'm switching carriers in September, that's for sure.

Saturday night, Eric picked me up and we went on a mini-pub crawl - first to the Shamrock, then to JJ's, then to Ol' South Pancake House for breakfast (biscuits & gravy and home fries), then the Oui Lounge for a nightcap. At the Oui Lounge, there was a girl crashed out in a chair. She was so drunk she had to be carried to a cab by her boyfriend. Eric actually took a picture of her, head all flopped over to one side, slumped in her chair. I am so glad that part of my life is over.

Then we had a sleep-over of sorts. He crashed in the bed next to me and slept til around 10 or 11. His cat, Missy, got on the bed and sniffed of him, then took off to be with Logan. How quickly they forget. She thinks she's Logan's cat now. She follows him from room to room. He went into the bathroom to brush his teeth, and Missy had to sit on the counter and supervise. When he went back into the front room, she followed him. She didn't do anything except watch him at the sink. Odd cat.

Speaking of odd cats, the whole reason Eric came to get me for the evening is because he and Sara tore the blanket, so to speak, and he needed to vent. I don't know what the catalyst was, but he moved home with his parents. Sara's had some catty remarks on her blog recently, but doesn't come out and say anything specific. I know it is sometimes like a soap opera, being around Eric. There can be high drama. But Sara seems to have some sort of complex. Everyone in her life seems to have it in for her. I told Eric that when everyone you know is crazy and evil, then perhaps it's really you. But then again, maybe some people just attract nuts. I know I do.

What's really sad is that I thought Sara and I were going to be good friends. She's certainly intelligent, which I greatly admire in a person. But I've known Eric much longer, and have a history with him that I can't put aside in order to remain her friend. Eric is fiercely loyal, and demands the same from his friends. Besides, I have a real problem letting down my guard with Sara in regards to the whole money issue. I seriously don't like the kind of people that like to live where they have to join a home owners' association. I would pay NOT to live with their ilk. I've been too poor too long that I'm almost a snob about being white-trash, if that is even possible.

Back at work today, I get a quote from my dentist. $3300 just to fix my rotten teeth. Another $900 for Brighid. Logan hasn't even been to the dentist yet, and Weyland won't let them look at his mouth. I've half a mind to just yank them all and get dentures. It might be cheaper.

And still no decision on a vehicle. Logan wants me to get an electric motorcycle, sort of like a Vespa. It doesn't require registration or insurance, and only goes 18 mph. Not no. HELL no. I'd be dead within a week. The first redneck that saw my fat ass hanging off the seat would have it in for me. The traffic is too heavy on the route to work, even if I go the back way, through the rich neighborhood near Colonial Country Club. You know, the old saw has it that money won't buy you happiness. But I've never heard anyone complain about having too much money. It can certainly buy some terrific substitutes for happiness. If money was no object, I'd go see the dentist who does all the work in one day, buy a new car, and take all the cats to the vet to get their shots rather than have to wait for hours at the low-cost clinic. 7 cats times $4 each = $28.00, more than I have in the bank today.

Should I play the lotto tonight? The jackpot is something like 35 million. That would buy a lot of cat food....