06.25.2004 :: 1:12 a.m.
bonus: you can't put spinning hubcaps on horses
Urg. I meant to write earlier, but now I'm just wiped. Which makes NO sense, seeing as how I did nothing but sloth around the house all day. It was gross. I feel all lazy and embarrassed when I don't get out and do things, but... there's not much to do. There's the whole job-search thing, but for some reason I just can't get it up for that at the moment.
My car went to the doctor today, and had its brakes fixed so that now I won't lose control and go careening off a cliff or anything. Since, you know, we're so big with the cliffs here in Central PA. There was some kind of leak someplace... blah blah... long story short, both back brakes needed replaced. To the tune of 320-some dollars. Yikes.
Cars are dumb. They're smelly, and environmentally unfriendly, and expensive, and then they break and they're even MORE expensive. May I suggest that we all just take to riding horses instead? Seriously. They're cheaper to feed, house, and care for at this point. And besides, horses? Awesome.
Speaking of animals, though on a less pleasant note... my mom picked Giles' ashes up from the vet clinic tonight. I was surprised at the presentation; it's really very nice. His ashes are in a clear, sealed bag with a little sticker that has his name on it in gold ink. There's a dried flower of some kind - pink - pinned (taped, technically) to the bag. And all of this is in a pretty little carved wooded box. There was a card with it all, with the date of his cremation and a bit of writing about the Rainbow Bridge and how Giles is now frolicking merrily in an eternally grassy meadow, chasing mice and sunbathing and generally being free of all the badness that comes with the mortal coil. I cried when I read it. I mean, it's a nice thought... I thought it a lot just after he died. It's comforting. No one wants to believe that all that's left of their beloved furry companion fits in a decorative box, you know?
So that was sad, but I guess it was also closure. Right now the box/card are downstairs in the living room, but I'll probably take them with me when I go to Lancaster. I'm the one who wanted them in the first place; it just didn't feel right to have them throw his ashes away. It's the same reason we declined the vet's offer of an autopsy. As much as I'd like to know exactly what happened to him, I could bear the thought of them cutting him open. It seemed disrespectful somehow, if that makes sense.
And again with the crying. Anyway, I was surprised by the packaging of his remains because when my mom got my grandfather's ashes they were in a cardboard box. Which, ew. So yay for Willow Mill Veterinary Clinic - you guys are great.
A few days ago a friend of Adam's mom was hit by a car and died. The funeral is tomorrow; Adam is going, of course. I feel so... I don't want to say "bad," because that sounds lame. I guess I just feel for him. He's been to too many funerals. I've only ever been to one - my Aunt Christine's. It was even a "proper" funeral, though, because she was cremated. So there wasn't a coffin or anything like that. My grandfather died, though I forget whether it was before or after Christine, but we didn't get to attend his funeral. His uber-bitch 2nd wife (not my grandma, just to clarify) didn't even bother to tell us he'd passed on until after they'd held the funeral. To this day, I swear to god, if I saw that woman on the street I'd belt her so hard her false teeth would pop out. He was also cremated, though, so I guess it wouldn't have been much different.
But I'm getting sidetracked. Adam isn't do so well right now, I don't think. He says he's fine, of course, but his general vibe doesn't do much to lend validity to that story. He's just seemed very desolate and down, which I completely understand, given the circumstances, but I wish he'd talk to me. He's always so quiet. It's unnerving. And a bit hurtful, if I'm being truthful. Because me, right here? Girlfriend. I've put in the time. Seriously, talk to me. Please.
God, this just keeps getting more and more depressing, doesn't it? And so much for being too tired to write, huh? Man. But I am pretty slothed-out, actually, so I should get some sleep. I really need to work on getting up earlier again. I'm slipping back into old patterns, and that simply will not do some September. I need to become a card carrying member of the Early Risers' Club, and oh, how it pains me... but it's necessary. And probably more practical as well, since the world does its thing between 7 and 5, not 11 and 9. Alas.
Maybe after we put the Horsemobiles into action we could work on switching those working hours up too, huh? 'Cause that would be neat.
back & forth
Wait, there's more!
I like pina coladas - March 30, 2005
must... finish... projects... - March 22, 2005
Mr. Postman delivers the good stuff - March 18, 2005
when everything is bad - March 16, 2005
of fruits and menstruation - March 15, 2005