Friday, December 19, 2003

My dog's sick. Just like 2 years ago, he ate something that didn't agree with him, and since yesterday he's had pretty bad diarrhea and he's been barfing up everything he's been eating. Yesterday, I thought it might be a temporary bug, although last night he kept whining to go outside and the result was pretty nasty when he got there. It hit a crescendo this morning when I woke up to find he'd been getting up throughout the night and taking emergency measures in our computer room, which he would never do unless it was absolutely necessary. It looked like some kind of shit golem had exploded all over my carpet. Just got done steam cleaning the whole place, and it's still not fully out -- probably have to pick up one of those exorbitantly expensive pet stain removers and try again tomorrow while my Rug Doctor time is still in effect. We'll be taking Carter to the vet if he's not dramatically better in the morning. Right now, all he's eating is ice cubes (per phone vet's orders), but he's actually looking a bit more chipper. Might be because we're letting him sit on the sofa for the first time in months.

And FrankenMetro is registered and back on the road as of yesterday. Only one hitch so far -- as I was approaching an intersection, the gas pedal seized up and I couldn't stop accelerating except by standing on the brakes and applying the emergency brake. I slowed down enough to pull into a parking lot and free up the gas pedal, but... man, that couldn't have helped much. It's like my car almost resents having been brought back from the dead, and is trying to kill us both so it can return to its oblivious slumber. No no, like Amanda Plummer to Christopher Walken's fallen angel in Prophesy, it must serve me as a soul-less reanimated ghoul for a little longer, only then will I release it to its natural sleep. In Jack's Auto Salvage. For $50.

That's it.

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