A day of extremes

Allow me to depart from my high-falutin philosophical spew to discuss personal issues.

Today was a bad day. The cat's sick, you see, and the vet can't give us odds on anything, or a signficant prognosis. All he can say is that there's a walnut-sized growth in her abdomen that may be cancer or may be something she ate or may be something else. It's calcified, and as a result, she's not eating or drinking and her kidneys are screwed up and she needs detoxification.

If that works, she will need exploratory surgery. If that looks good, they will remove the lump. If that works, they will send the lump to the lab. And after all that, the lab may still come back and say she's terminal. All of this will cost between $1,000 and $1,500. Which is money we probably don't have, so we'll have to scramble.

Work sucked, too. My position is largely a public relations position, which means that when something goes wrong with the system that I've become the face of, people throw it at me. Sometimes they throw it hard. And sometimes it's not a system problem, really, but they demand that I solve it anyway. I'm pretty tired of it.

So her I am, feeling tired and beaten down, and oh yeah, I bought a car tonight. It's a 2006 Kia Spectra. I like it. It's nice. I feel good about the purchase. Never buy a 1999 Sportage. It's bad juju.

I should feel good about buying the car. At the very least, it should take the edge off. Instead, I feel like I've been through the wringer.

Sometimes I fly like an eagle and sometimes I'm deep in despair. And some days it's both.