Life continues. Apparently. Thank you all. I did go get myself some minimal amount of groceries, but most of what I remembered to buy yesterday was rat-oriented -- honey for compounding their amoxicillin, yogurt for tummy rumbles, and chocolate chips, because that's how you decongest critters too small for Sudafed.

Flathead is more or less fine. He gets picked up twice a day for lap cuddles, so I can hand-feed him honey-flavored goo, Benadryl, fruity yogurt, and chocolate, in no particular order. If not for the WHRNK part, I think he'd be enjoying himself. He might be enjoying himself anyway. I am vaguely worried that he will develop Munchausen's.

I have recently been alerted to the fact that people have been trying to ping me via Google Hangouts. I haven't seen any of it. Investigation reveals that Google forcibly switched everyone from Gchat to Hangouts a couple of months ago, and I haven't seen anything since. I hate the chat window loitering around my inbox, so I'm not usually logged in on the Gmail tab, and while Gchat used to email me notifications if I had an unanswered chat pending, Hangouts apparently does not. My "smart"phone takes the short bus to phone school and crashes when asked to run the Hangouts app, but if it's really vital to everyone I can try installing it on the tablet.

The thing that really broke me this time around is that I ran out of resources to be nice to other people. It is one of the ways I cope. If my life deteriorates enough, I snap and become the Anti-Vogon. When I have money, I buy people lunch or soft drinks or coffee. When I don't have money, I mainly just talk. A few months after I moved here, a panhandler hit me up downtown. I was waiting on the first check from a new job that was taking forever to pay me, and wasn't doing great myself. All I had was a pocket full of change -- which she ultimately refused -- so I sat on a bench with her in the Public Garden, and we traded sob stories. I have no idea if hers was true, and I still don't care.

This is one of the big reasons why I hoard random information about people in my environment. You remember people's coffee orders, they think you're a goddamn wizard. One of the office staff at the studio told me once that she liked almond-flavored desserts. She has undoubtedly forgotten ever saying this, but I happen to know that CVS sells these generic iced almond cookies that are weirdly good. One of these days, I'm going to go in there and find her looking half-dead, and I'm going to come back from my dinner break with cheap cookies. It won't fix anything, I'm sure, but at least it won't make her day any worse.

It feeds my primal urge to do something, even if I can't do anything about my own situation, and I get the satisfaction of telling karma to suck it. Bad days are fucking stupid, and nobody should have them.