The clinic warned me the antibiotic might kick my ass: 4000 mg of Augmentin a day. But I made it through the weekend with no ill effects.
Then, Monday, wham. Now I wake up tired, I go through the day tired, I come home tired.
You may recall back last year when, unbeknownst to myself, I was suffering from severe anemia. I'd wake up and be fine but start to fade about midmorning.
This is different. I'm faded when I wake up. By day's end, my arms and legs feel like they've got lead weights on them. I'm mentally alert, but my body's so tired I can't focus.
I expect to be able to retrieve Butthead the Bite Cat from Animal Welfare tomorrow. Well, most of Butthead the Bite Cat, anyway, since certain parts essential to the propagation of his species will be left behind. Since about two-thirds of the cat population in this neighborhood appears to be either his direct or indirect offspring, I expect this will reduce the number of cats roaming this area within a couple of years.
An animal welfare activist explained to me a couple of years ago the theory of exponential cat population growth: one cat has three or four kittens, a year later those cats have three or four kittens, and the third year those cats have three or four kittens. Meanwhile the cats from years one and two are also still having kittens. You can see the horrific implications.
Like a lot of other theories, though, this one doesn't stand up well under the noonday sun of reality. If cats actually multiplied at the rate predicted, the earth would have already been ass-deep in cats back when King Tut was wearing diapers.
Cats are crazier than shit, by the way. I don't know if you knew that, but they are. I don't know what they're thinking.
3 comments:
Cats have no-mind.
Eat. Sleep. Shit. Fuck.
Repeat.
Nowadays when people give me that crap about cat population growth I just smile and say "Why yes! That IS how a geometric progression works in math! But it's not how you model population growth, where you need variables for disease, death and predators."
Hope you are feeling better soon.
Meow!
Your cat does not know it is domesticated. It thinks it is leading a pride of lions on the savannah or is a stalking Bengal tiger prowling the jungle. Your cat thinks the moth around the porch light is a bird of prey and that a mouse is a leaping impala. Once you get the notion that they have HUGE egos beyond all rational porportions and NO THERAPIST to interfere in their interior lives with a bunch of western rationalist bull manure and that they are impervious to our television advertising and Sunday school moralizing, you'll get along much better with our feline masters. A cat is, in some respects, like a spouse: you must decide whether you'd rather be happy or right.
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