But.. it just gets me that until then, the day was going so well. I got all my sidework done in the morning, even if I did have the "Skrewu" station, where I had to do not hard work, just a lot of it, in a very short time. Up until these folks, everyone I had was pretty nice. Not the greatest tippers in the world, but nice enough so that I was staying in a good mood.
Funny how just one group of dicks can bring you down. It was towards the end, and I'm not sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. It was good as in it didn't cast a shadow over the whole day, but it was bad in that when I left work, I wanted to curl up and cry.
But, I own cats and when you own cats, curling up in a corner the moment you return from work is not an option. Cats need to be fed their canned food and woe be to you if you want to cry first. No, first you must feed them. Then, you must change their water, because stale water (stale as in it's been in the dish since... gasp... this morning) is evil. Then, you must replenish the crunchies, clean out the litterboxes.
And, since I wanted to make sure I got the other stuff that needed to be done, done, I paid some bills, did the trash, washed the kitchen floor, and cleaned out some unusual objects from the refrigerator, that might have been food evolved to a new life form, or might have been an alien life form that made it to earth and tried to hide out in my refrigerator. The jury is still out on that one. Either way, my refrigerator smelled better when I was done. I cut up a lemon and put it in a dish in the refrigerator uncovered for a bit, and now it smells lemony fresh!
So, by the time that was done, I was thinking about crying, but I looked at the clock and saw that Todd would be up in half an hour, so I made coffee for him. Then I was worried that he'd worry if he woke up and saw me crying, so I put it aside.
Now he's gone to work and funny, I just don't feel like crying anymore. So, I guess it worked out. And, various chores around the house are done, which is always a big plus. We have electricity and gas for another month. (Whooo!) And, the cats are somewhat content that they are living in a house fitting them, rather than a pigsty, designed to discomfort them in any way possible.
There is something wrong with having three litterboxes for two cats, two of which are completely scooped and relittered (if needed, it's the clumping stuff) once a day, the third which is scooped every day, and gets a total change of litter twice a week. (Clay litterbox) Yet, if we try to get rid of one, Chrissy will start shitting on the floor. Oh, she tries to be "cute" about it. She sticks her head into the box, sticks her ass out the door and shits on the floor, but she's not fooling anyone. Goten will do it too. It's like their silent protest. "What happened to the THIRD LITTER BOX?" And yes, all three litterboxes are lined up together, it's not like one is on the other side of the house. It's not like our house is huge anyway. My cats are just disgustingly spoiled rotten.
And, they like it that way. Which makes me wonder, who owns who sometimes. Then I remember, "Oh yeah, they're cats, of course I'm the one who's owned."