August 18th, 2002


Mr. Samsa, I'm afraid I must kill you again.

Saturday... boy, I wish that the end of it had gone a little smoother. It was a great day up until the closing part of it, which sort of just... sucked enough to take some of the joy out of things.

I got up around 9:30 AM or so, wandered out to the living room and fed Ra per my usual routine. It's funny to see just how spastic he can get when the egg timer goes off thirty minutes after he's gotten his Prednisone. It's sort of like "Oh boy oh boy oh BOY! I can EAT now!" and then it degenerates into a minute and a half of physical comedy as he twines around my feet, maiows and runs back and forth while I take the cup of food from the closet over to his bowl while trying not to trip or step on him. Maybe, for my sanity, I should invest the time to find another timer that he won't be able to get conditioned to. At least then I know I wouldn't have him trying to climb over my feet while I walk.

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After rereading my latest entry I wonder if I could have made it any more disjointed and halting. It worries me that I'm writing so badly.
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