21 November 2011

Cleto Knows How to Pick'em

So, today Cleto pissed in my suitcase, wherein lay my only good winter sweater. I'm trying to save it, but I don't have much hope. It will probably go the way of my only pair of jeans.


No Thanksgiving invitation for this week. I suppose homeless scum like me are not welcome at the family gatherings. It's better I'm tucked away out of sight. Last year I was an embarrassment because I didn't sign up for the family gift exchange. I heard the whispers "She can't afford $20?". No, I could not. At that time I was fighting to keep my home, which I now - as you can see - do not have. I'm sure my sis would rather not put herself through even worse shame this year, the shame of having a homeless sibling.

The culprit
Hopefully I'll have plenty of work to do on Thanksgiving day. Most of the competition will be doing normal stuff like eating and watching football. But I do have plenty to be thankful for this week.

Well, okay, one less thing since Cleto pissed on my good sweater. But I have great friends who care about me from afar and keep me cheerful in the worst of times, and I have a good mind. I have a warm place to stay, at least for now, and I have my cats with me, at least for now.

That's right, Cleto, drink more water so you can pee on more of my things.

I have work that gives me some kind of income, even if it sometimes falls short of my needs. I have my favorite WH model. Okay, okay... I'm starting to grasp at straws here, but it's Thanksgiving and I want to be thankful with the rest of you bastards. I guess what I'm saying is, right now, right here, other than the piss on my sweater, I'm doing okay. I'm warm, I'm above ground, and I've got wonderful friends and a slice of pie in the mini-fridge.

I probably should have used the Oxford comma in that last sentence. My friends are not in the mini-fridge. Not all of them, anyway.

Happy Thanksgiving week, everyone.

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