First, get together with a group of friends for coffee and such, and listen to the the latest versions of their respective weeks.
On the way home, experience an odd internal pain while driving – particularly while turning the steering wheel. Not vigorously, mind you, and with power steering.
Experience this three different times in the space of fifteen-or-so minutes.
Drive home and internally debate calling the RN nurse help line, offered by your insurance carrier.
Make the call, and experience a chain of health-related advertising while on hold. Disconnect the call and redial the main number, eventually being menu-prompted to a live nurse.
Discuss the specifics of the multiple events, including the depth, type of pain, duration and other symptoms experienced.
Receive the strong suggestion I visit either an E. R. close by, or an urgent care.
Ask roommate J. to drive you. She has recently been released to drive, but with her shoulder on the mend, I’ve insisted she not yet so do, until now.
J. begins experiencing her own symptoms she has had repeatedly for a couple of years, involving her heart and asthma. Decide to drive yourself the 1/8 mile to the Urgent Care, based on the fact an E. R. is more distant, and costs more money.
The Urgent Care performs an EKG, says it ‘might’ be unusual, and recommends an immediate hospital intake for further evaluation. Drive home and ask J. to do the honors, just in case.
Arrive at the E. R.. J. ‘s breathing has again become labored, probably because of stress and the smoke in the air from the nearby desert and city fires.
They admit her first, for observation.
At length, get admitted, have blood taken, and another ekg done. And answer the same questions the same way to three different doctors, the same way you did at the urgent care. And have another ultrasound of the still puffy leg.
Eventually get moved to a room. You are hungry and tired, and J. gets released on her good behavior.
Attempt to call family and friends via cell. Apparently, this is verboten. Text everyone and go on FB. (Thank you for your support!)
Finally, get a doctor’s permission to eat. Initially, as the lunchroom is now closed, they bring you a well-traveled turkey sandwich (I LOATHE turkey!)
Negotiate and end up with BBQ chicken and a baked potato!
Awaiting later blood work, to compare with the earlier, to see if any actual heart damage occurred. Get told you might have to stay overnight.
Get released twelve hours after the initial pain happened, not having any additional pain or symptoms, with the diagnosis ‘chest pain of a non-cardiac nature’! (IOW, they don’t know!)
Received referrals for your regular doctor and a cardiologist, just because.
Ask J. to return to collect you.
Realize you are subject to the power of suggestion, as one of your friends had been discussing her heart attack last week in this morning’s coffee, with the subsequent placement of a stent.
Consider suicide (just kidding)…
… and I’m not even an old Jewish woman!
(My blogpost title is marked as a trademark, as the phrase is now legally linked with Life Alert™, the ad where I stole the phrase.)
(Yeah, yeah, political correctness – watch the original ad!)
One of my jobs is to retrieve the mail. We share one of those communal mailboxes about 100 steps from our front door. (I miss having a house with a mail chute built – in! But I digress.)
So last night I go out to retrieve the mail. Undoubtedly ads, solicitations, bills and perhaps collection notices, all for our enjoyment.
I noticed there was a significant breeze, cool, but not cold.
And no one else was outside to enjoy it.
On my return trip, I did exactly that. I tripped. I suspect ‘Ed Sullivan’ (the really big shoe)* caught on one of those dividers they place in concrete sidewalks.
And down I went, pitching forward, my eyeglasses flying forward.
The ‘good news’ is I reverted to old karate training (from a Bruce Tegner book?) Instead of putting my arms out straight (ensuring a break or sprain), I placed them as if going down in a push-up – to absorb some of the shock. (Having a fused right hip, I am unable to bend all my joints and roll.)
I hit the sidewalk, felt some pain in my palms, and left ribs.
(Ok, so I didn’t do it perfectly. It’s only been 50 years or so.)
I rolled on my left side and began inventory. Hands, wrists, arms, no apparent sprains or breaks. Pain in my ribs, just below my left chest. It hurt a little when I breathe. Palms hurt, but not any abrasions. Glasses unscratched and unbent!
Now for the fun part. For a few years now, getting up off a flat surface has been challenging. To say the least. If I have foot stools, or something low and stable I can pull myself up on, incrementally, I’m golden.
If things are just flat, not so much. (not being able to bend like normal folks, and having less body strength in my arms and left leg)
And, while I did yell aloud upon impact (a kiai?), no one came outside to investigate. It was 1940 hours, and dark.
What to do, what to do?
I considered, for about two seconds, crawling across the sidewalk, to a narrow grassy area to the colored gravel adjacent to the townhouse stucco wall. There, using the wall (I reasoned) I could get a purchase and pull myself up!
Crawling, especially across gravel with sore ribs didn’t have much appeal to me, which is why I only thought about it for a couple seconds.
I know! I’Il call J., my roommate! She had said she was going to join me downstairs shortly.
Of course, sometimes she goes back to her nap, and turns off her phone! (911?)
I called, and she answered. She is recovering from shoulder surgery – there is no way she can pull me up…
I explained to her what had happened, and asked her to bring the aluminum patio chair out to me, that it might work for me to get myself up.
No dice! It was to high for me to get enough leverage. I suggested she knock on neighbor’s doors, until she found some help. Failing that, it was 911 for sure!
I think it was on her third try. Neighbors we didn’t know (and how sad is that?), a nice young man who was active in martial arts and sports medicine (a Twilight Zone moment, to be sure!) came, assessed me before touching me, then lifted me to my feet as if it were no big deal(!) He walked J. and I to our door, not letting go until he was certain I was ambulatory. He asked where all the blood was from – I didn’t know there had been any! He said I should get ‘checked out’ (as if I were in my eighties and broke my hip). I thanked him profusely.
Turns out I led with my chin**. A couple of abrasions that wouldn’t stop bleeding until I shaved off the kung-fu beard! (A disappointment for J.) I may have to grow it back. We’ll see.
Blood? What blood?
The never-ending bleed
And I have had broken ribs a couple of times. These are only bruised. I take pain meds for ongoing conditions, anyway. No biggie. Unless I cough, sneeze, reach for something, bend – you get the idea!
Getting old ain’t for sissies, no siree!
*Ed Sullivan was a variety showman on TV from the late 40’s ’til the early 70’s. He used to say, “We have a really big show – pronouncing it as shoe. Youngsters, ask your parents! I wear a built up shoe on my right leg – hence the clever nickname.
**Faces are VERY vascular (they can bleed a lot).
(from Brock Townsend)
On August 3, French riot police dragged a priest and his congregation from the church of St Rita in Paris, prior to its scheduled demolition. Front National leader Marine Le Pen said in fury: “And what if they built parking lots in the place of Salafist mosques, and not of our churches?”
France is in turmoil. “Migrants” arriving from Africa and the Middle East sow disorder and insecurity in many cities. The huge slum commonly known as the “jungle of Calais” has just been dismantled, but other slums are being created each day. In eastern Paris, streets have been covered with corrugated sheets, oilcloth and disjointed boards. Violence is commonplace. France’s 572 “no-go zones,” officially defined as “sensitive urban areas”, continue to grow, and police officers who approach them often suffer the consequences. Recently, a police car drove into an ambush and was torched while the police were prevented from getting out. If attacked, police officers are told by their superiors to flee rather than retaliate. Many police officers, angry at having to behave like cowards, have organized demonstrations. No terrorist attacks have taken place since the slaughter of a priest in Saint-Etienne-du-Rouvray on July 26, 2016, but intelligence services see that jihadists have returned from the Middle East and are ready to act, and that riots may break out anywhere, any time, on any pretext.
I’ve no problem with more immigrants moving to the United States. Legal, vetted, immigrants. Muslims, even! Who wish freedom and American assimilation.
But, if you cannot be vetted, or are terrorists, smugglers, murderers or rapists, stay away!
Or face the consequences of your actions.
Not the usual not enough (although I suspect that applies to most of us…)
Wisdom from Peter
There’s been lots of talk lately about doing away with bigger banknotes and moving towards a so-called “cashless society”. To name just a few recent articles:
However, when banks start charging you for the privilege of keeping your money in their vaults, that changes the picture. The Wall Street Journal reports:
For years, Germans kept socking money away in savings accounts despite plunging interest rates. Savers deemed the accounts secure, and they still offered easy cash access. But recently, many have lost faith.
“It doesn’t pay to keep money in the bank, and on top of that you’re being taxed on it,” said Uwe Wiese, an 82-year-old pensioner who recently bought a home safe to stash roughly €53,000 ($59,344), including part of his company pension that he took as a payout.
Interest rates’ plunge into negative territory is now accelerating demand for impregnable metal boxes.
Burg-Waechter KG, Germany’s biggest safe manufacturer, posted a 25% jump in sales of home safes in the first half of this year compared with the year earlier, said sales chief Dietmar Schake, citing “significantly higher demand for safes by private individuals, mainly in Germany.”
. . .
Germany’s love of cash is driven largely by its anonymity. One legacy of the Nazis and East Germany’s Stasi secret police is a fear of government snooping, and many Germans are spooked by proposals of banning cash transactions that exceed €5,000. Many Germans think the ECB’s plan to phase out the €500 bill is only the beginning of getting rid of cash altogether.
There’s more at the link.
We’ve already seen calls to eliminate the $100 bill in the USA, and high-denomination bills elsewhere. They’re never made out of concern for our interests – always to benefit Big Brother or the banks. Every time I hear such calls, I check, double-check and re-check my cash reserves (and expand them, if possible).
The anonymity factor is certainly important to many people, including yours truly. In an era when certain purchases (e.g. firearms, ammunition, etc.) are ‘politically incorrect’, I much prefer making private purchases whenever possible, paying cash instead of using credit cards or checks. (For that matter, some vendors such as PayPal and Square specifically forbid using their systems to buy such items, limiting one’s options.) Also, if electronic payment and/or processing systems should go down for any reason (such as the infamous EBT ‘outage’ a couple of years ago), cash will instantly be king once more – so it pays (literally) to have some on hand.
I repeat my earlier recommendation. Try to keep at least one months’ expenditure on hand, in cash – preferably in smaller bills such as twenties. If you can stretch that to two or three months’ worth, it’s not a bad idea to do so. You never know when that cash might come in very handy indeed.
While I respect Peter for his wisdom and sage advice, not unlike the ‘preppers’ , there’s only so much a ‘person of limited means’ can do.
There are months I run out of funds before they are magically replenished (being on a meager disability income), many times a week or 10 days before they appear. Things haven’t gotten better, since my roomie has had additional health problems and must work less, putting more of the burden on my shoulders.
We cannot save a month’s worth of expenditures; forget two or three! And, months of prepper goods? Fuggedaboutit!
I suspect we shall be relying on our wits and few firearms for survival, when TEOTWAWKI limps ashore our community.
(from Free North Carolina)
Apparently, that whole First Amendment, Freedom of Religion thing is kind of passé for some people at the Red Cross down in Lafayette, Louisiana. I mean, how else could you explain their decision to condemn a police officer for having the audacity to pray with flood victims in need of help?
This past week police officer Clay Higgins stopped by the local Red Cross shelter after work to see how he could be of service to the hurting people of his community. Higgins was still in uniform and carrying a Bible as he spoke and prayed with local residents. After a few minutes on scene he was approached by a Red Cross volunteer who told him that the Red Cross had taken issue with what he was doing and wanted him to leave.
“He said the Red Cross had an issue with me being there. So I asked him what the problem was. He looked down at my Bible and he gestured and said, ‘They have a problem with that.’”
Higgins then asked to see a supervisor, and that supervisor told him that he needed to leave their facility.
It’s been said there are no atheists is foxholes. I suspect it is the same in the throes of a natural disaster. AND, if one is an avowed atheist, holding to their beliefs during such an event, how is a groups of other-minded folks clinging to their beliefs offensive?
The fact is the American Red Cross is a private organization, loosely linked to the International Red Cross, and if both want to continue being supported by the charity of persons worldwide, they need to loosen up.
I happen to know, from direct personal experience, that the Red Cross is entirely converged and totally corrupt, so it doesn’t surprise me in the slightest to hear that the Red Cross is refusing donations in Louisiana unless they can profit from them:
“So as we are headed back home from the River Center in Baton Rouge volunteering our nursing services Dawn and I have come to the conclusion that neither of us WILL EVER volunteer or donate to the RED CROSS. The Red Cross basically takes over the shelters and starts refusing clothes, donations and various volunteer services UNLESS they are previously contracted. So what does that mean….well, 60 boxes of doughnuts were discarded this morning becuase the delivery vendor was not in contract, hot meals were refused becuase the entity providing wasn’t contracted, and medical supplies including medications were trashed for same reason. Clothes that were “donated” needed to be left on the street unless they were “furnished” by Red Cross. As of tomorrow, the shelter we were at will be completely over taken by the Red Cross other than the medical area because they couldnt have the actual room since LSU has a contract with state to provide medical care. Its sad when the military police were helping to “protect” the medical areas from the red cross when there are so many other issues at hand. Anyway, next time to want to donate or volunteer your services, do your homework.”
Don’t ever donate to, or volunteer with, the Red Cross. They are fully SJW-converged and they have been for years. This is also why one should NEVER set up a non-profit. They are always quickly converged by the very people who have lots of time and are oh-so-eager to help.
I remember a friend telling me years ago that they were in a house fire. The fire department responded, as did the The Red Cross – who gave them water and blankets.
Later that week, THEY RECEIVED A BILL FOR THE RED CROSS EFFORTS!
And, how sad is THAT?
From Alan Korwin’s email this morning, in part…
The Infamous No-Fly No-Buy Gun Bill HR 2578:
“Blatant Rape of the Constitution.”
— Legislators who proposed this should be removed from office —
Has anyone even read the bill that had democrats
staging a sit-in on the floor of Congress?
“No district court of the United States
or court of appeals of the United States
shall have jurisdiction to consider the
lawfulness or constitutionality of this section…”
It gets worse.
Under the excuse of fighting terrorism, these democrats, with republican allies, wanted to deny Americans their individual rights to travel by air — or obtain arms — without probable cause, without due process, and get this — without being able to view the evidence against them or face their accusers. Their accusers and the evidence remains a secret. Your rights would be denied solely by a secret-police list.
You can’t challenge the proposed law’s legality… because it hasn’t got any. It would not pass even the slightest scrutiny, and they know that, hence that clause above in bold. My republican senator from Arizona, Jeff Flake, supports this, smiling when he announced it on TV.
The people proposing this 17-page tyrannical travesty should be removed from office.
And THIS STATIST CLOWN is the more ‘conservative’ of Arizona’a two Senators! (The other being McCain!) Barry Goldwater must be spinning in his grave!
Even if you are not from Arizona, please contact this guy’s office in protest! (link below)
Senator Jeff Flake
(I have – THREE TIMES!)
(And, now for something completely different – as promised)
22 VETERANS COMMIT SUICIDE DAILY
Even ONE of these heroes making this choice is unacceptable! (Day #22 of 22)
I recall the ‘old days’, wherein the meme was tap…rack…BANG!
(a clearance drill – tap the magazine to make certain it’s properly seated, rack the slide to remove any miss-fed ammunition or poorly-ejected cases, then reengage)
The problem with that was. People revert to their training. They were discharging their weapons as a matter of course, 1…2…3!
(The story goes some folks were unnecessarily shot due to following this training!)
Now, when applied to Modern Policing…
As long as they come home at night……………
Danny Banks, the Florida Department of Law Enforcement’s special agent in charge, said at a news conference, “In that time, we need to set up, re-evaluate, reassess what’s happening and make sure that all the pieces were in place.” Unbelievable
At approximately 5 a.m., the SWAT team made the decision to rescue the hostages, officials said.
Police set off controlled explosions inside the club to distract the gunman. An armored vehicle smashed through a wall of the club, and officers swarmed in behind. Eleven Orlando Police officers exchanged gunfire with the shooter, according to Mina.
“We made a decision to do an explosive entry on the outside of the club to get to those people, and our SWAT team at that time encountered the suspect somewhere in that area, near one of the doorway entrances, and shot and killed him,” Mina said.
Now, I understand prudence in both an interpersonal encounter wherein one needs to tap, rack and assess, and a team of police outside a violent crime scene also needing to assess the situation…
But, THREE HOURS?
(And, now for something completely different – as promised)
22 VETERANS COMMIT SUICIDE DAILY
Even ONE of these heroes making this choice is unacceptable! (Day #14 of 22)
Much like interaction between neighbors, I believe interaction between nations is similar. In short, politics is like the rules of the street.
If you encounter someone out-and-about trying to rob/rape/burn a third party not known to you, you may choose to walk away, or engage.
If a nation takes force against another, you can make the same choice. Or not.
HOWEVER…we don’t exist in a vacuum, either as members of society or as a Republic!
(from Mike @ Cold Fury)
War is the health of the State.
Until August 1914 a sensible, law-abiding Englishman could pass through life and hardly notice the existence of the state, beyond the post office and the policeman. He could live where he liked and as he liked. He had no official number or identity card. He could travel abroad or leave his country for ever without a passport or any sort of official permission. He could exchange his money for any other currency without restriction or limit. He could buy goods from any country in the world on the same terms as he bought goods at home. For that matter, a foreigner could spend his life in this country without permit and without informing the police. Unlike the countries of the European continent, the state did not require its citizens to perform military service. An Englishman could enlist, if he chose, in the regular army, the navy, or the territorials. He could also ignore, if he chose, the demands of national defence. Substantial householders were occasionally called on for jury service. Otherwise, only those helped the state who wished to do so. The Englishman paid taxes on a modest scale: nearly £200 million in 1913-14, or rather less than 8 per cent. of the national income. The state intervened to prevent the citizen from eating adulterated food or contracting certain infectious diseases. It imposed safety rules in factories, and prevented women, and adult males in some industries, from working excessive hours. The state saw to it that children received education up to the age of 13. Since 1 January 1909, it provided a meagre pension for the needy over the age of 70. Since 1911, it helped to insure certain classes of workers against sickness and unemployment. This tendency towards more state action was increasing. Expenditure on the social services had roughly doubled since the Liberals took office in 1905. Still, broadly speaking, the state acted only to help those who could not help themselves. It left the adult citizen alone.
All this was changed by the impact of the Great War. The mass of the people became, for the first time, active citizens. Their lives were shaped by orders from above; they were required to serve the state instead of pursuing exclusively their own affairs. Five million men entered the armed forces, many of them (though a minority) under compulsion. The Englishman’s food was limited, and its quality changed, by government order. His freedom of movement was restricted; his conditions of work prescribed. Some industries were reduced or closed, others artificially fostered. The publication of news was fettered. Street lights were dimmed. The sacred freedom of drinking was tampered with: licensed hours were cut down, and the beer watered by order. The very time on the clocks was changed. From 1916 onwards, every Englishman got up an hour earlier in summer than he would otherwise have done, thanks to an act of parliament. The state established a hold over its citizens which, though relaxed in peacetime, was never to be removed and which the second World war was again to increase. The history of the English state and of the English people merged for the first time.
Funny how so many “temporary” wartime measures turn out to be anything but. But the truth is that power glommed by the government, and liberty stolen from the people, are two of the most permanent things in existence.
(Via Jay Nordlinger)
Do no-knock warrants (The War On Drugs), or sobriety checkpoints (Alcohol), or metal detectors @ airports (Hijacking) have a ring? Or The Patriot Act or the NDAA, the TSA, Homeland Security (or any of their bastard children) post 9/11?
Don’t you see? EVERYTHING is countenanced as a WAR by government! And, as such, demands these extreme measures for the government to combat them.
And the only way they relinquish any of their ill-gotten power is through long, hard-fought legal battles. Like courts now requiring warrants for cell-phone access.
Or, I suppose, through another choice.
Also to be hard fought.
(a follow-up to the November 8 post I Sometimes HATE Novembers, as promised…)
So, here I was, in my insurance-paid-for-rented-condo, about a mile North of my home, while contractors rebuilt it, after the drunk driver had hit it two weeks prior. That’s what I get for buying a corner lot, off a street that zig-zags. Drunks never caught that nuance, head straight for the alley, see the power pole, and crash into my back yard.
It had happened before. Last time it was just the fence that was destroyed.
I, of course, still had to go to work, pay bills, and check the mail at the house, all while surveying the excruciatingly-slow process of rebuilding the rear of my home and replacing the fence.
Thankfully (?) I was beginning to have more health issues (joy, joy) which meant I was missing more work. Which gave me the excuse to stop by and check the mail and the progress of the reconstruction more often.
And, it had been a couple of days since I had last checked the mail, and it was my birthday(!), so I thought I’d check the mail again. Hell, there might be a birthday check from someone in the mail? 🙂
I pull into the driveway. No contractors present. This always bothered me, as this process was taking forever. Of course, mine wasn’t their only project.
(This had been a little over two weeks!)
AND THE SIDE DOOR WAS STANDING OPEN ABOUT TWO INCHES!
This alarmed me, as no one was around. The door had been always locked and the extra key placed in one of those Realtor-access combination locks around the door knob. Which was now nowhere to be seen!
I exited the car and drew my 1911 pistol. (Yeah, I know. All my training (which I had trained others to do many times before) was to leave the area to a relatively safe location and call the police to respond. After all, there may have been multiple armed intruders inside burgling my home!)
BUT, this was MY HOME! And the training went out the window. Sigh.
I slowly entered the kitchen, listening intently for any activity inside, pistol at-the-ready. Then into the living room, bath and two bedrooms. This was relatively quick, as it was a 740 square-foot house.
It was obvious someone else had been inside. Someone NOT a contractor. A home computer, portable television, stereo, some faux Samurai swords and a number of other items were missing. Movers had taken many of the larger furniture items to put into storage prior to the reconstruction. But I was told they were unable to take the gun safe, as they were prohibited from storing firearms.
They had removed the Dillon XL 650 reloading press from it’s mount, preparatory to the rebuild. But had not put it into storage. (I guess it was gun-related). It was gone.
And the 800 pound, Fort Knox gun safe was missing. And this was on the floor…
Someone obviously had pried off the combination dial and locking lever to open the safe. And when that failed, THEY TOOK THE ENTIRE 800 POUND SAFE!
Credit cards, spare checks, school transcripts, cameras, my birth certificate and over fifty firearms! Gone.
First, I called the insurance company, to see if they had perhaps authorized storage of the safe and it’s contents, and had inadvertently broken the locking mechanism somehow in transit. Then, I called the mover and the police.
And was scolded by the 911 operator, as it was for emergencies only. How was fifty+ firearms possibly out on the street was not an emergency?
Ultimately, the contractor, the storage guy, my insurance man and the police arrived on the scene. I recounted my actions upon arriving multiple times for each of them. And I was livid. To keep me occupied (and busy and out of the way) the police advised me to make a list of what was in the safe, including all the firearms and serial numbers.
I knew most of their descriptions by heart, but the list (with Polaroids and serial numbers) was not around. It was probably in the materials previously packed and moved to storage.
Fortunately, I still had many of the receipts and gun boxes, which were labeled on the edge with the numbers.
And set about making the list on a legal pad.
All parties were questioned. The contractor’s employees all had cellular telephones they were required to keep with them at all times (for GPS tracking purposes). And all passed the location test.
As if someone couldn’t have left the phone at home off-hours to do a burglary? Or they told someone else? Come on! I never broadcast about the safe in my home, suddenly, after many strangers had seen it, it went missing.
After six months, the house was reconstructed, painted, re-floored (safe drag marks) cleaned (even clothes in the closet dry cleaned!) and restocked with the stored items. I had called in to stop all my credit cards the same day.
I received a check for the maximum available from my policy. (Note-to-self: Make certain all valuables are covered, and if there is a cap it covers all firearms. I was insured for a maximum of 5K on the firearms, eventually paid just over 7K total. Firearm valuation of the missing? Over 21K! in 2009 gun values)
Fortunately, I had taken my favorite 1911 and .38 snub with me to the condo!
And none of the identity items, credit cards or firearms have ever surfaced.
I’m thinking Mexico, and thank God that Fort Knox makes a quality piece of security equipment! I suspect it’s abandoned in the desert somewhere, still unopened. (Let this be a lesson – if you’ve not done so already, bolt your safe to the foundation and wall studs – even if it weighs 800 pounds!)
And among the missing are my electroless nickel Colt Gold Cup, 1969 Browning High Power, 4 AR-15s, my Ithaca Deerslayer Police Special 12 gauge, my pre-model 27 Smith & Wesson 5″, my Sig-Sauer P220 – marked made in W. Germany(!) and my 1942 Springfield Garand!!
I had to use the insurance money for other things, and never was able to replace any of the missing firearms.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!
FTC – Fort Knox safes gave me nothing. I bought it at a gun show. Leave me alone!
Belle, after a hard day of messing up my life
I generally do not allow the livestock into my room. Because of mild allergies and annoyances – as it is my ‘sanctuary’.
HOWEVER, the ‘kitten’ Belle (who is now over one year; officially a cat) does sometimes get in. She is generally friendly and loving (except the whole trying-to-trip-me-on-the-stairs thing). And there is something soothing about petting a cat and hearing her purr.
BUT, she does like to explore, and find mischief. Like going to my desk and retrieving wrapped sugar-free cough drops as toys. Which she then drops to the floor, making them dog fodder – should they get in. And for me to step on, later.
The biggest annoyance, though, is as my computer is open on my desk – she walks on and sometimes lays on the keyboard! When this happens, two things occur:
- Somehow, she connects to illegal government security and/or porn sites (SERIOUSLY, how does she DO that?)
- She presses combinations of keys making my use of the computer impossible!
The other morning, I began my usual rituals ending with sitting at my desk and starting to do my blog. Suddenly, it became VERY clear that anything I typed (No, TRIED to type) wasn’t working! It was as if the keyboard were haunted! Periods became <, even when the caps lock was off! Highlighting text (to cut and paste into my blog software) became very finicky and non-responsive. I actually began thinking I would not be able to use my PC to blog on and would have to resort to my tablet, which would be much more difficult.
Much cursing, whining and praying ensued.
After roughly 45 minutes, some combination of keyboard tweaks I tried actually WORKED! I was able to do the blog as I usually do, complete with correct punctuation! HUZZAH! Of course, I’ve no idea how I fixed things, exactly…
The plan, now, is to remove the wireless keyboard to an undisclosed location, if I am not using it, lest the kitten invade again.
And to figure out how she’s getting to those websites.
NO, not those ones!