Jan. 3rd, 2017

kittydesade: A delicate hand reaching up to pluck fruit from a tree (give me the fucking fruit)
I am so damn tired. I woke up, I called my Congressperson about the dumbass attempt to undermine everything about House oversight, we tried to get Bat Cat into the carrier. He would not go into the carrier. He really doesn't like the carrier. Two minutes (if that, literally it was within a minute or two) after trying to stuff him in the carrier he's wandering around the room, petting himself on our fingers, a little wary but generally friendly. After three or four attempts he still politely ate treats from my hand (and licked my palm, and slobbered on my fingers.) Try to get him into the carrier and he turns into a flailing ball of scream.

Of course now I'm freaked out because I don't want to take him to the vet in case he tries to bite the vet or does bite the vet and they chop his head off to test for rabies. Which I know is catastrophizing, but they don't take the same care necessarily with feral cats as they do with established domestic ones (vets in general, I don't know about this vet) and I don't know how Bat Cat will be with people who are not me and the boy. And ugh. Added stress I did not need.

And I'm tired. I feel like I'm under an unusual amount of life or death stress right now but I think mostly it's the cat. Poor kitty we maybe shouldn't have taken in, although he's loving being inside. Curls up on the chair, he hasn't even hidden under anything for longer than thirty minutes or so. Pets himself with our fingers, bunts, purrs loudly. He touched noses with me once. Argh.

I got a number of writing things done last night, including prepping a Scrivener document for the Malachy world wiki (I need a pithy series name for it ugh. Lifestyles of the Modern Witch is what I'm considering) and I got a timeline document started, and my 500 words written although not logged, meh. I'll figure out what the specifics are of that when I get home. I really, really, really need to somehow, somewhere, organize what I need to do no, never mind, what I really, really need is a light day at work or another more quiet weekend. But I think I have the writing stuff organized.

Or maybe I need a week off to sleep and cry and feel some depressed feelings and scream and shoot crappy dishware with a shotgun. Or rifle or whatever. I can't tell if I need to sleep or kick things. Maybe both. I'm so damn tired. One thing at a time. One foot in front of the other.

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