Andare, Partire, Tornare

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Technicolor yak

A slightly bizzare day today. I pried myself and T out of bed at about eleven (ah, the blessings of the weekend) and wandered downstairs. T promptly fell asleep again, but roommate and I wandered out to the Petsmart with her dog, Catherine, drooling blissfully out the car window (and onto my arm). The place was packed with dogs up for adoption, and I got to coo over a few greyhounds and several cats, while roommate dodged small children and large dogs to get kibble and treats for the four-foots.

We got back, and I rousted T again, and made this Chun King canned sweet and sour chicken for us both. Biiiiiggg mistake. We had to go visit the woman whose dog we're sitting over Christmas, and he got a horrible migrane on the way, combined with the usual nausea. It progressively got worse, until, on the way home, I had to pull to the side of the road so he could yak in a gorgeous techicolor display all over the side of Route 123. He's sitting there, gasping for breath and trying to compose himself, when behind us...red and blue lights. Uh-oh. Are we about to be busted because I'm sitting on the shoulder? No, it's a very sympathetic policeman who wants to know if T required an ambulance. We said no, thankyouallthesame, and the policeman went on his way. It made me feel quite good inside, actually, as he was so solicitious, and didn't write us any sort of ticket.

I returned home and put him to bed, and then went with roommate again to the mega-huge new Ikea, where we wandered, broke but blissful, through the rooms, sampled free Swedish delights, and then ate Swedish meatballs. Damn, were they good. I think I will return at some point and buy the five-pound bag and make a big feast of the things. I think, perhaps, that I will do all my Christmas shopping there, as so much of their stuff is cute and, of course, pretty damn cheap. I was wondering aloud about Swedish sweatshops, where little blond moppets labor over purple-dyed sheepskin carpets, and funky, kitchy lamps, but perhaps I'm on the wrong track.

Maybe I'll go in to work with T tonight. He's going in from midnight to six, and I don't want him passing out on the board tonight...

8:23 p.m. - 2001-12-01

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