My boyfriend went out and got an eight-week-old kitten today. Her name is Carmen. She’s a brown tabby with hazel eyes, long hair, white paws and a white bib. She looks like every other kitten in the world — that is, adorable. Pick her up and right away she starts purring like she’s got a little motor inside her.
That makes a current total of four pets: Carmen the cat, our two rats Gypsy and Belle, and Alley the chihuahua, who actually belongs to my boyfriend’s roommate.
I thought it was cool when I found out I know someone who knows someone who went to Oxford with the Crown Prince (now King) of Bhutan. My friend said her friend said the Prince was a jerk, which I guess is to be expected.
But now I’ve found out I know someone who knows someone who went to primary school with Daniel Radcliffe! That’s even cooler. Everyone knows who Daniel Radcliffe is. No one knows who the King of Bhutan is, and most of them don’t even know Bhutan is a country in Asia. My friend said her friend said Daniel Radcliffe was an “emotionally stunted weirdo.”
It’s a pity I don’t personally know anyone really famous. Robert Cormier was only semi-famous (about as famous as a young adult author can be, but that’s not saying much) and he is now deceased.
I am twenty-four years old today. Woo.
My parents gave me a sweatshirt (handpainted with a stack of books; I didn’t have the heart to tell Mom she spelled the word “Heroes” wrong in one of the titles), a pair of hand-knitted socks (I collect them) and money to go get myself a massage. Meh. I will wait to see what Michael and his parents have in store for me.
Last year my friend Jeff gave me a $150 bottle of absinthe. Then I accidentally broke it before I could try any. I was seriously pissed off.
For some reason, my computer is showing only 450 files in the “M” folder of my “Cases” folder. (This is on my computer itself, not on the internet.) I thought perhaps all the others had accidentally been deleted, and started to FTP all the missing ones off Charley into the folder, but FTP told me the files were already there. And I did a desktop search for a few of the missing files and they are, in fact, there…but my folder still shows only 450 files.
What gives? This has never happened before.
I use Windows Vista. Any ideas?
UPDATE: Okay, I checked out the properties of the folder and it said the files were “read-only.” I unchecked that box and reloaded the folder, and now there are 2,332 files again. Problem solved.
Once again I am struck with my annual bout of severe hay fever. Claritin and Benadryl haven’t really helped and I haven’t been able to sleep due to the coughing, the runny/stuffy nose and the crap dripping down the back of my throat. Got the chills, too. I’ve now been up for about 30 hours. I wanted to miss work, I felt so terrible, but I’ve missed work so much this past summer due to all that went on that my boss had a little talk with me recently and told me I had to stop doing that or I was fired. So I went to work in much misery.
Damn you, pollen! Damn you to hell! Damn you, overactive immune system, which can’t even tolerate anti-allergy cream.
There’s a 60% chance of rain today, which might clear the air…if it actually does rain.
The attack happened three months ago today.
As far as the criminal case goes, there has been no very big news and I’ve resigned myself to the long haul. Last I heard, they were trying to enhance the videos they have of him to make a poster. They told the bus drivers to look out for this man, but he doesn’t really have any particular distinguishing characteristics and the bus drivers can hardly be calling 911 every time a five-foot-six black guy gets on the bus. So they need a picture. I believe the police are doing the best they can, and Detective Austin has always been considerate and professional with me and always returns my calls in a timely manner. I just wish it was like the movies or the Law and Order shows where they’ve have him arrested, tried and convicted in an hour or so. It’s all the more frustrating because I think they know who did this. What I’m afraid of is that he’s left town and gone somewhere where no one knows him and no one’s looking for him.
As far as me — I am determined not to let this ruin my life and I think I am doing okay so far. In the month after the rape, I lost twelve pounds, and I had only weighed 120 to begin with. I forced myself to eat more and better food and now I’m back up to 119. I didn’t get pregnant and I didn’t get any diseases, thank goodness. I’ve stopped dreaming about it so much, and I’ve stopped getting all nervous and trembly when I’m around men who resemble the rapist. But he’s never far from my mind and I still feel ashamed in a lot of ways and keep thinking all these what-ifs and I-should-have-dones. I wish I could open up my skull and physically remove those thoughts and memories from my head. All I can is hope they get him soon, and remind myself that it could have been a lot worse than it was.
And that’s all I have to say about this for now.
Today I texted John asking if we could speak, because talking to him generally cheers me up. He texted back saying he’d try to find time. He is in law school and a very busy man. I replied feeling guilty and apologizing for taking up his time. He texted back: Don’t apologize. Every time I talk to someone it’s “sorry this” and “forgive me that” and “I am not worthy.” It’s like those miserable songs. They’re so depressing.
I burst out laughing and felt slightly less miserable for a bit. This is EXACTLY why I need to talk to him.
(For the culturally illiterate, John was quoting a line from the movie Monty Python and the Holy Grail. The line was spoken by God.)
It probably won’t last, but I’ll take what I’m given. I thank y’all for your supportive comments and stuff.
I have finally finished The Last Days of the Jerusalem of Lithuania and am now about in the middle of the Silvia Pettem / Boulder Jane Doe book. It’s quite good. I had no idea Harvey Glatman was considered a suspect in that poor girl’s murder.
I just discovered my boyfriend has House Season 5.
And the jerk NEVER told me he bought it. NEVER. And he knows I’m a huge fan.
So now I have to watch as much of it as possible before I have to go back to work on Saturday.
Adios.
I just encountered an article about a sex offender who created a missing person poster for a woman who had disappeared. The poster, which offered a $100,000 reward, wasn’t authorized by the family, and they freaked and called the cops when they found out who had made it. The police suspected this man was trying to profit financially from the woman’s disappearance so they sent someone over to offer a “donation.” The man didn’t take the money. He said he had to call the woman’s family. So the police have determined there was no crime committed.
Frankly I’m not sure why this is considered news. It sounds like the guy was just trying to help. What is frustrating about this article is that it doesn’t say what “sex offense” he was convicted of. You’ve seen me spout off on this blog before about sex offender registration. It’s way too inclusive and you can end up on the list for very minor things (such as having sex with a 15-year-old when you’re 17, or even urinating in public). And all the media and people are going to hear is “registered sex offender.”
