2001-08-23 - 11:17 a.m.

My second brush with a possibly rabid winged rodent yesterday provoked a great deal of concern. From Max, I got a link to some bat eradication products.

From Robyn, Max's fiancee, I got a cute e-card telling me what a brave girl I was! (Yes, it was Gus who took on the difficult task of kicking that bat to the curb, with a litlte help from Hatbox, but the card was still a nice gestures, and I'm a brave girl regardless, damnit!)

For anyone who is not a regular reader of the Jenniors, Max and Robyn are these friends of mine who got engaged recently. Sorry for being so damn cryptic all the time. I'm trying to work through that.

And the exterminator is coming tomorrow, thank God! Barbara and Marvin apparently find bats as nasty as I do, and are dealing with this most rapidly. They rule. (Oh, for the first time readers - Barbara and Marvin are my landlady and landlord, respectively. Because why would you have gotten that on your own?)

All that's left is getting Hattie to the vet, since she had the bat pretty well pinned down at several points, and is going to need a rabies booster. (Hattie is my cat. I also call her Hatbox. Sorry if I am going too fast for anyone.)

You may have noticed that my entry seems a little hostile today. Don't fret, this has everything to do with my not being a freelance writer in Paris. But I'll get over that.

I got into work late because there was a chance that the exterminator would be coming today (how's that for service?) and I had to clean my apartment as much as is possible in about 15 minutes. Why do I get so hung up about strangers discovering that I am a messy, messy girl? I certainly have no issues with making my friends sit amongst the piles of junk mail and laundry and the bras dangling from everything that won't yell, "Hey, keep your damn lingerie off me, will ya!" Maybe I am afraid of the exterminator coming in and saying, "Well, of course you attract bats. You live in squalor!"

When I do clean, I always manage to do something stupid, like the time Gus' family came over to meet Hattie, and I left a pair of red underwear on the floor in plain sight, or Hattie does something to piss me off, like using the newly-mopped kitchen floor as her own personal litter box. Of course, she does that when I don't clean, too, so I don't suppose it's out of spite. Not that I'm too thrilled with her right now, after discovering that my cool kitchen rug just has too damn much cat poop residue to keep around any more.

What's up with that? It's not like I go around and ruin her stuff. Of course, I buy all her stuff, so ruining it on purpose would be stupid. Still, doesn't she know mommy has to cope with bats and a boring job and all that crap?

Damn kids.

What I'm wearing:

What I'm reading:

What I'm doing after this: