My fridge is dying.

I came home to melted ice cream and just kinda cool soda. The fridge doesn't matter much, I haven't much in there that doesn't actually need throwing out, but the freezer has hundreds of dollars of Omaha Steaks (and pork chops and burgers) that it would break my heart to lose.

I suppose that the fridge has had a good long innings, being twelve years old and bought for $50 from my old landlord, but honestly, a heat wave is hardly the moment for it to conk out. Not to mention that The Raccoon is going on holiday on Thursday and I won't be able to leave work early or anything while she's gone.

So I called my Mom and asked for a loan and got the Tops Appliance City flyer from Cynthia and found a swell fridge on sale for the next two days that has an ice maker and everything and I'll buy it tomorrow after work (if it's the right size--cubic feet doesn't help much when I'm trying to figure out whether it will fit in a 28" wide space).

Fortunately, after making this decision, the fridge turned itself on again and started spitting out waves of cold air with a vengeance. Perhaps it heard the words "junkyard" and "new fridge" and is trying to save its ass, but at least I know that I have a slightly larger window of time than I thought I had.

So yesterday I was discussing coming to Boston with my friend Robert, going over various weekend possibilities. I said that this weekend was my birthday weekend, so that was right out, and he remarked that I hadn't been talking about my birthday all the time as I had in previous years and that he was proud of me.

"Wow," I thought, "Maybe I'm growing up at last!" And then, "Wait a minute, I'm turning 35, I need all of the presents and cards and attention that I can get to keep my mind off that fact! Screw quiet dignity and grace!"

So, birthday's a-comin', for those that care, good wishes appreciated. Gawd, thirty-five...

Speaking of getting exciting parcels in the mail, I got a ton yesterday.

Mostly from my Mom, but also the digital camera that I got in that auction, some books that I got from Amazon (and have forgotten what they are), and the Randy Newman tribute cd that my group made.

All of these packages count as "things not to open until Monday", so sorry, people waiting for their copies of the cd, they're not going out until next week!

So I read this yesterday, then this immediately afterwards, weeping at my desk, thankful that no-one could see me.

What a nightmare losing a pet is. I've lost my share due to disease, cars and sheer old age. I had a kitten (Oliver) savaged by my dogs, a cat (Pepper) hit by a car in front of my house, a cat (Pirouette) dying at the age of sixteen when I was in Europe with my Mom visiting her family, two dogs (Kimba and Licorice) go blind and feeble from diabetes and have to be put down, and my darling Rhubarb just falling apart at the age of twenty after my Da died.

I have never, however, had a pet die that was only mine, not my parents' as well, since I was an adult.

I still have every cat that I ever got on my own, Monty (14), Milo (13), Elvis (11) and Baldrick (9), and I have been pushing to the back of my mind for quite awhile how old Monty's looking. He can't jump anymore and he's looking very bony. Milo's only a year younger but is clearly in the pink.

I try never to yell at Monty or get annoyed, and always pet him when he wants petting or scritching on the head or under the chin. I hope I'm wrong, I hope he lives for years and years, but reading Pamie's story made me more firm in my resolve to love all of my bad kitties as hard as I can every day so that when they must leave I won't regret missed opportunities.

Today's horoscope:
Curiosity about how things work is stronger today. Don't ask embarrassing questions, but do increase your understanding.

One year ago today:
It was like hearing my mother say "fuck"!

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Brittly!

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Last Updated Wed 18 August 09:11:09 1999