Do you ever get the feeling that the universe has something to say and that you don't quite understand the language? I do and I have several mediums trying to contact me. The first is my cat, which as mentioned here on several occasions has found her voice. I truly do not understand why she howls at the bathtub. I find it baffling.
Howl ... HOWL ... HOOOWWL... HOOOOOWWWWWLLLLL
and then she walks down the hallway and curls up in a ball and goes to sleep. What are the demons that speak to her in the bathroom? Is she protecting me from some unknown entity. I've left a pad of paper and a pen just in case it is Grandfather and he has something he needs me to communicate to Malle. So far the pen and paper have not been used ... of course, he could be doing what Kurt Vonnegut's narrator (a ghost) in his novel Galapagos does and write the story on air with an invisible hand.
There is also the possibility that Kitty is actually channeling an entity and not speaking cat is having a hard time getting the message through ... perhaps I could put a phone on the floor and let the Bush Administration use their resources to interpret and prevent another cat-astrophic event. One message that has come through loud and clear is that she expects her diet to consists of Fancy Feast Grilled wet food and Meow Mix. For those of you who have not investigated why cats ask for it by name go down to your local rehab clinic and break out a crack pipe. Meow Mix is basically crack for cats and it's not a quaint occurrence that they "ask for it by name." The poor little pussies are having withdrawals and only a little shot of the good stuff will bring them back to land of the living ... until the urge calls again. Damn you Meow Mix!
Anyway, Kitty is a joy and her fur is soft ... though smells a bit of Fancy Feast oil and aside from the dietary requests does not demand an unreasonable percentage of my income. My little Ford Focus on the other hand could not wait to get her hands on my tax refund. Not even two days had passed after I submitted my forms online when I heard the noise no car owner wants to hear. Grrgle cough whirr. Click click. Now, keep in mind that I was going to be a good boy and visit my charity (i.e., Gold's Gym) and was out of bed and on my way by 7:45 in the morning on my day off. And then ... Grrgle cough whirr. Click click. CRAP!
I tried again and after a few sputters I got it started and drove across town to the Ford dealership and discussed some possible issues: alternator, battery, starter, mystery issue. Of course, I am now 7,000 miles past my extended warranty and every little cost is going to come directly out of my pocket. So I'm trying to stay in a good place when I'm called to task on my inconsistent maintenance routines. I kind of chose the partial 40,000 mile checkup and skipped the 60,000 mile checkup altogether. Fine. How much is the 60,000 you ask? $505! Oy vey. Ok, so I'll just add this to the Car Insurance costs and of course the mystery costs. My buddy Scot from S&C Ford is going to give me a call later.
So with a cup of Ford coffee (Note to Starbucks: You have nothign to worry about!) in hand I walked out of the shop and looked for the next bus to take me back across town. The 24 is an interesting bus line in the city of San Francisco. It is a circle route from Pacific Heights out to the Potrero Hill and in the process probably passes through at least 7 or more neighborhoods. Not that I'm too good for public transportation, I just wasn't in the mood to spend more money on my nonpublic transportation and now not have my tax refund to spend on something like a bicycle. Anyway, apparently the juices and joints needed a bit of loving. The steering fluid was dirty. The back brakelight was not working. The battery needed replacing and I could have her back for a bargain rate of $950! I thought for sure that the karma gods would balance things out by letting me win the lotto Friday night. I did my part and bought a ticket and ... they said no. So I have a bionic car and a howler ... just a few of my favorite things.
