This and That, But Not the Other So on Monday I got the news that my boss, previously known as the PABB (that is, Passive Aggressive Bitch Boss), died early that morning. She�d had her second bout of breast cancer that had also metastasized to her bones. Bless her heart. I honestly wouldn�t wish that kind of thing on anyone. It�s odd, really . . . I took a few minutes to mourn her and to pray for her, but I honestly don�t feel much beyond that. I didn�t have a connection with her, and frankly, I really didn�t like her (seriously, would you call anyone you liked PABB?). But still . . . I don�t know where I�m going with this. I suppose that I think I�m supposed to be more broken up about D�s death, but then she was an intensely private person and I respected that, and she also wasn�t here for more than 8 months as she was on disability. I suppose that the feeling I have is that of closure on the fact that I knew that she wasn�t coming back. In other news, Ubu the fish, who lived quite prominently in a bowl on desk also died on Monday. But bettas only live for about 2 years or so, and I think I had Ubu for about 2 and � years. So now I have a new fish on my desk � another betta, and his name is Spike. I was just looking at him and he figured out that those pellets floating on top of the water were food. Good for him. He�s such a little guy in comparison to Ubu. Spike is a silvery blue-grey with red fins and a red spot on top of his head. So cute. He brings zen to my workspace. Hubster�s hand continues to heal and I�ve decided that we should take another Monday off, this time in August so that we can go tubing. Otherwise, it doesn�t look like we�ll take a holiday. Hubster doesn�t want to drive anywhere, and we want to spend some money on the house anyway. We need more insulation and the remaining carpet is so grody that I�ve given up steam-cleaning it. Of course, I say that and then I try to clean it again, and it looks nice for about as long as it takes to dry. I could also vacuum those carpets everyday and I�d never get up all the damn dog hair. I love my Gypsy, but her hair is like greyhound hair and it doesn�t clump and it defies all attempts to vacuum it. Nuts. Spike�s looking at me. I think he�s considering me as a threat. Or food. Or a mate. Great. A betta fish wants to either kill me, eat me, or hump me. What a choice! In the Old South, they�d do all three, and probably marry it in the bargain. Ta!
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