Since I was asked, I’ll tell you all about my job.I am the death of rats. So far, I’ve personally performed or assisted in the execution of twenty-five. And cervical dislocation on a rat is a very audible thing. Some of my further thoughts on that subject
When I’m not killing rats, I’m usually cleaning up after them and the mice. In total, there are 70,000 rodents on the UNC campus, and I will eventually have seen, and cleaned up after, most of them. My duties also involve changing them from one cage to another, feeding, and watering.
On my list of things I never really wanted to know: Rat shit stinks worse than mouse shit. Considering how biologically similar they are, and that they eat the same thing, it’s amazing the difference in potency and in bouquet that they attain.
My first day they bought me six sets of scrubs and a pair of mad-spiff Wolverine workboots. Which is good, because I’m on my feet all day (and the steel toe has kept the pressure off my nasty infected/callused toe, which I got operated on yesterday, again).
It’s not particularly pleasant work, but it’s better than the temp jobs I’ve had, mostly because the environment is better, and the pay and perks are much better.

Anyway, I’m bored of talking about my job. What I really want to do is show you all my pictures of my kitties.
So here:

This is the kitty we saved from the cold mountain woods when she was starving and freezing to death. Now she’s at home with my inlaws.

This is Aretha. She’s adorable.

Not just occassionally. She is ALWAYS adorable.

This is James. He’s handsome.

Though not always dignified.

This is me. They don’t actually do this willingly.

And this is my woman. She’s purdy.

On the subject of my toe, just because I don’t think I’ve complained enough about it here: Last September I had my ingrown toenails executed. Three out of four did just fine, but one of the surgery spots (the outside edge of my right big toe) formed a nasty infected callus. I had it removed in November. It came back. I had it removed again yesterday, with a bit more prejudice, by a podiatrist. She wrapped it up with a lot of gauze and a smiley face bandage. When I removed the bandage this morning, it turned out I’d lost about a pint of blood in to that gauze. Ewwwwwwww. Anyway, all of this swollen-ness and infection and surgery-ing makes the eight hours a day on my feet really, really enjoyable. But like I say, the steel toed workboots keep a lot of the pressure of my toe.

4 Responses to “SQUEAK”

Those are some mighty pretty cats there, Owen… I’m not, strictly speaking, one of those strange “cat people”, but I can appreciate me a cat when I feel like it. 😉

I like the looks of your place, from what I can see. How big is it? Are you happy with it? Lately, my apartment feels small… but I also am a packrat with piles and piles of stuff.

Hope your toe feels better!

Paradoxdruid - February 7th, 2005 at 6:48 am

I thank you, and the cats thank you (though, they’ve been told often enough how pretty they are).

It’s one bedroom, maybe 700sq ft. It’s a nice apartment, and we like the area. We’d been looking to move up to a two bedroom in the same complex, but we found out that the townhomes some of our friends live in cost as much and have much more room (though they’re a bit further from campus). So we’re looking to move to those in June or July.

The toe got stomped on yesterday at dinner, but it’s doing okay, considering.

How’s grad school treating you of late?

Owen - February 7th, 2005 at 12:33 pm

I’m really sorry, Owen. That is pretty ridiculous though — there you were, on your own, unpaid time, doing a work-related activity, and you get fired. What idiots. I know it must be hard with bills and all, but on the bright side it might be an opportunity for you to find a better job. Again, really sorry, Owen. So often it seems that management is lacking any plain common sense…

Teisha - February 15th, 2005 at 6:21 pm


So, um, shittiness:
I got fired a week ago. Basically, I went in to the facilities one evening after work to move my equipment (Scrubs, boots, safety glasses) from one facility (which I’d been stationed in) to another (where I would be stationed), because I didn’t want to waste work hours doing this. And I was fired for being in the facilities after hours. The fact that this was the stupidest, dumbest, most pointless and arbitrary decision I’ve ever seen an employer make doesn’t really ease the sting of it.
I am fucking depressed now, and a useless lump of humanity for the past week, with no end in sight.

Owen - February 15th, 2005 at 4:56 pm

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