![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Sep. 5th, 2013 02:07 pmI have to pick up some tranquilizers for Young Miss Weaver at the vet’s office after work today. See, she’s got her annual check-up on Saturday, and she LOATHES being caged. 99% of the time she’s as placid as a cow (are cows really placid, though, or is that a stereotype? I’ve heard of cows charging people), anyway, 99% of the time she’s very placid and sweet-natured. The other 1% involves vet visits, scratches to my arms, and her peeing on me with fright. Luckily she’s in good health, so I only have the ordeal once a year.
Last year the vet gave me some tranquilizers in a vial to use the next time, but that was a year ago. Naturally, I have managed to lose the vial of pills. So she (the vet) is very kindly going to dispense 2 in advance in the interests of making sure she (the cat) is groggy enough to be wrestled into the cage for transport. Young Miss Weaver was trapped at a feral colony when she was 3 months old, and I suspect that deep in the back of her tiny pea-brain, she remembers that traumatic event, despite being totally tame in all other respects.
In the past, I’ve just given YMW a quarter of an Ativan, crushed up in her food, and that’s worked well enough. But this year I can’t find my Ativan. I got a new bottle a week ago, and what’s happened to it, I do not know. It must be somewhere in the apartment, because it’s not like I would’ve thrown them out. You wouldn’t think it would be possible to lose things while living in a 620 square foot space, but it is. I have too much clutter, is the problem. My mum has been helping me weed out clutter, but there’s still a lot left. And of course, being without my anti-anxiety meds makes me more anxious.
I overheard a very interesting conversation at the coffee shop this morning, between two lawyers (I could tell by their special black and white outfits). One of them is a partner in a law firm and was “taken into the equity” last year. I looked that up on Google and it turns out it means being converted from a salaried partner (i.e. not a real partner except in name) to a partner with an actual share in the profits of the firm (i.e. what I think of when I think “partner”). She now has a job offer from a bigger law firm, but they don’t want to take her into the equity right away, so she’d have to go back to being a salaried partner.
She was in a quandary over whether to accept the job, and discussing it quite fiercely with her friend, who seemed a little bored. I eavesdropped shamelessly (well, it wasn’t difficult. Starbucks puts their tables very close together, and they weren’t being too quiet). I was a little disappointed when I had to leave and she hadn’t come to a decision yet. It’s rude to eavesdrop, but it would be even ruder to interrupt their conversation to say, “Can you hurry up and make a decision, please? This total stranger wants to know!” Anyway, people of my f-list/dwircle who know about legal stuff, is this kind of thing common?
Edited to add: Found the Ativan, precisely 25 minutes after I got home from fetching the kitty tranquilizers at the vet's office in the pouring rain.
Last year the vet gave me some tranquilizers in a vial to use the next time, but that was a year ago. Naturally, I have managed to lose the vial of pills. So she (the vet) is very kindly going to dispense 2 in advance in the interests of making sure she (the cat) is groggy enough to be wrestled into the cage for transport. Young Miss Weaver was trapped at a feral colony when she was 3 months old, and I suspect that deep in the back of her tiny pea-brain, she remembers that traumatic event, despite being totally tame in all other respects.
In the past, I’ve just given YMW a quarter of an Ativan, crushed up in her food, and that’s worked well enough. But this year I can’t find my Ativan. I got a new bottle a week ago, and what’s happened to it, I do not know. It must be somewhere in the apartment, because it’s not like I would’ve thrown them out. You wouldn’t think it would be possible to lose things while living in a 620 square foot space, but it is. I have too much clutter, is the problem. My mum has been helping me weed out clutter, but there’s still a lot left. And of course, being without my anti-anxiety meds makes me more anxious.
I overheard a very interesting conversation at the coffee shop this morning, between two lawyers (I could tell by their special black and white outfits). One of them is a partner in a law firm and was “taken into the equity” last year. I looked that up on Google and it turns out it means being converted from a salaried partner (i.e. not a real partner except in name) to a partner with an actual share in the profits of the firm (i.e. what I think of when I think “partner”). She now has a job offer from a bigger law firm, but they don’t want to take her into the equity right away, so she’d have to go back to being a salaried partner.
She was in a quandary over whether to accept the job, and discussing it quite fiercely with her friend, who seemed a little bored. I eavesdropped shamelessly (well, it wasn’t difficult. Starbucks puts their tables very close together, and they weren’t being too quiet). I was a little disappointed when I had to leave and she hadn’t come to a decision yet. It’s rude to eavesdrop, but it would be even ruder to interrupt their conversation to say, “Can you hurry up and make a decision, please? This total stranger wants to know!” Anyway, people of my f-list/dwircle who know about legal stuff, is this kind of thing common?
Edited to add: Found the Ativan, precisely 25 minutes after I got home from fetching the kitty tranquilizers at the vet's office in the pouring rain.
