Pynchon

I had a half day at work today so that I could take Moon The Cat to the Vets. Moon's glucose level is a little high (probably because I gave him a little bit of tuna before we left the house), and he is a bit wobbly at times, but his appetite is good and the Vet thinks that Moon is doing OK. We have been asked to take Moon back to the Vets for another checkup at the end of August and in the meantime to keep his insulin level at a slightly reduced level.

While at the Vets I did brace them on exactly what they think happened to Moon on Saturday and Sunday, as Moon's collapse was pretty well total. They more or less confirmed what Lorraine told me on Monday were the reasons Moon was ill last weekend. I feel a heel. Perhaps I should believe the lady next time?

Nah.

Other than that, nothing much else to report. The Company is holding a party this evening, but we decided not to attend. Lorraine did not give a reason why she was not going to attend. She just told them that she didn't fancy it. Ever the smart alec I told them that I would be busy plucking the hairs out of the crack of my arse. An infinitely preferable activity.

I could have gone to the party. I could have drank their alcohol and ate their food. I could have got very drunk and fat, acted the fool, stuck a carrot up my arse and sang Rolling Stone's songs on their karoke, but I didn't. I couldn't be bothered. The Company has so very little to be pleased with itself about and it just feels to me that going to the party was unpleasantly close to saying that everything is OK. And it most definitely is not.

More fool me, eh?

Tomorrow I will be at work in the morning, and in the afternoon I am going to see "The Notorious Bettie Page" (Hurrah! About bloody time they put it on in Brum.) Then... Be afraid. Be very afraid. Tomorrow night "The X-Factor" returns.

I love "The X-Factor". Sue me.

(I have not forgotten to write up "Lady In The Water". This will be done sometime over the weekend.)

Have a nice weekend, people. Rock 'n' roll, baby!