Norman and I have THECRUD, a terrible Normandy disease that has been making the rounds for about a month now. As Normy weighs 8lbs and I... weighalittlebitmorethanthat, I worry more about the state of his health than mine. It’s a horrible feeling when you wake up to a dead weight (of a cat) wrapped about your neck that won’t move or react no matter how much you poke and prod. I had to keep getting up all night just to make sure he was still alive. Imagine the appeal then condemnation in his gummy, sad eyes as I shook him for the umpteenth time, ‘Fix me? Ughhhhh, you *suck* at being my owner. Why the hell do you keep waking me up, dammit? Can’t you tell I’m sick?’
Eventually I make it through the night, make myself *slightly* presentable for work (ignoring all the cat hair Norman 'lovingly bestowed' on me for his care), fetch my chai, and head outside. All of this was done in an incredibly listless and lethargic way.
I make my way to the parking ramp.
(da DUH)
I forgo the elevator for the stairs, slowly making my way upward.
(da DUH)
Step.
(da DUH da DUH)
Step.
(da DUH da DUH)
Jingling my keys, sipping my chai- I can see the back bumper of my car as I continue on. Something draws my attention behind me
(da DUH da DUH)
I twist my head and keep walking. *sploosh* I feel wetness on my leg, in irritation my eyes are drawn down my legs toward my feet
(daDUHdaDUHdaDUH)
A chill runs down my back. What the..? I see but I can’t comprehend. This puddle is... this puddle is *red*. I confirm with my fingers
(daDUHdaDUHdaDUHdaDUH)
With dawning horror- I widen my field of vision and see a long crimson stream, collecting in the puddle I have stepped in. Enormous eyes- I start to run with the pooling liquid, the only sounds my harsh breath and clicking heels.
(daDUHdaDUHdaDUHdaDUH)
Click click.
(daDUHdaDUHdaDUHdaDUH)
Click click.
(daDUHdaDUHdaDUHdaDUH)
Tension mounts as the trail leads me closer and *closer* to the source of the unknown substance. My heart races, my body reacts and draws me to an abrupt halt near the end of my journey. I can’t bring myself to peer around the final obstruction to the answer.
(daDUHdaDUHdaDUHdaDUHdaDUH)
I can’t bring myself to look... but I have to *know*. One hand on my bumper- crouching down and biting my lips, I slowly straighten. Inch by inch, the source of the original puddle is revealed. And then:
::drops chai::
AHHHHHHHHhhhhhhhhHHHHHHHHHHh!! NO! Oh GOD NO!?!?!!!!! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHhhhhhhhHHHHHHHHHHH!!!
(daDUHdaDUHdaDUHdaDUHdaDUHdaDUH WREEWREE)
A commuter comes running. ‘Are you okay?!’
Am I okay..? AM I OKAY? *Heck* no, I’m not okay- my freakin’ transmission is leaking all over the place again!
(ba bum BUM ching;)
So. I have no idea what I’m going to do... *and* I feel like HELL. I’d ask Skinny Stan for help but we’re feuding after some choice words were exchanged over the temperature by my desk. I guess I’m walking again. I may just get pneumonia and DIE. Stephanie’s been following me, hosing down everything I touch or even breathe on with Lysol. That can’t be good for me either. In retribution, I stuck my finger in her tea behind the front desk. Ha! Take that! Oh crap... there goes my karma.
...dammit.
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