[Rant] Minor Rant III: For a Few Hollers More

My daughter slipped while brushing her teeth and hit her chin on the bathroom counter. She had to go to the ER to have it glued back together after cutting it open on Monday, so it started bleeding again. My son was in the shower at the time, heard the commotion and kept asking my husband if she was ok. My husband (who was upstairs with the kids while I studied downstairs) then growls at him like a hungry bear and yells at him to just get showered. Now my daughter was wailing hysterically, my son was in tears in the shower with soap now getting in his eyes because his sister's hurt and Daddy yelled, and my husband was acting like a lunatic because that is how he reacts when our kids are hurt. Lucky me, I got to be the one to settle them all down. Thankfully there was no return visit to the ER necessary. I'd really like a drink and a vacation in Tahiti by myself.
 
The most infuriating part is that they stole a full size frame pump that only works on presta valves. I'm 99% certain that the idiot who stole it is never going to be able to use it.
Good news -- the frame pump has turned up. I hitched a lift with a friend on Friday and we didn't notice that the frame pump fell off in his trunk. It still looks like someone swiped my tail light, but that's minor compared to a full-frame pump.
 
My parents' garage was a mess. Admittedly some of it was my fault, because I was storing a few things there. But mostly it was a mess because they had mountains of crap they hadn't touched for years (sometimes decades).

So...
  • I came up with the plan to have a garage sale
  • I made signs
  • I posted signs
  • I personally cleaned out for the garage for them (they basically sat back and watched as I pulled things out and sorted at their direction)
  • I hauled away all the large, heavy objects
  • I used my truck to get heavy tables for a rental place
  • I contacted a bunch of my friends and got them to loan me more tables and other things
  • I priced items
  • I sorted items
  • I got up early on both Saturday and Sunday and came out, where I did the majority of set up (moving tables, placing objects)
  • I hung the signs
  • I provided around $20 in change for the cash box
  • I spent 7am-3pm both Saturday and Sunday in the sun dealing with customers, loading shit into people's vehicles, etc.
  • I cleaned up, almost entirely by myself
  • I took the unsold crap to the dumps
  • I took the unsold furniture to sell (hopefully) online on their behalf

Earlier this afternoon my mom counted out the money. We made almost $450.

My mom counted out $100, tossed it to me, then deposited the rest in the bank in my parents' account. She didn't even ask what I thought was fair. She never discussed it.

...

So I'm pissed and I feel like my parents robbed me, but I can't say anything. There's no way to bring it up without sounding greedy or ungrateful. But goddammit, I worked my ass off and sold mostly my stuff... then they took over 75% of the money. That's fucking bullshit.

But that's okay! My mom decided to celebrate by taking the money and buying some nice food at the local market. A celebration dinner, she called it.

And she just asked me to cook it.
 
My parents' garage was a mess. Admittedly some of it was my fault, because I was storing a few things there. But mostly it was a mess because they had mountains of crap they hadn't touched for years (sometimes decades).

So...
  • I came up with the plan to have a garage sale
  • I made signs
  • I posted signs
  • I personally cleaned out for the garage for them (they basically sat back and watched as I pulled things out and sorted at their direction)
  • I hauled away all the large, heavy objects
  • I used my truck to get heavy tables for a rental place
  • I contacted a bunch of my friends and got them to loan me more tables and other things
  • I priced items
  • I sorted items
  • I got up early on both Saturday and Sunday and came out, where I did the majority of set up (moving tables, placing objects)
  • I hung the signs
  • I provided around $20 in change for the cash box
  • I spent 7am-3pm both Saturday and Sunday in the sun dealing with customers, loading shit into people's vehicles, etc.
  • I cleaned up, almost entirely by myself
  • I took the unsold crap to the dumps
  • I took the unsold furniture to sell (hopefully) online on their behalf

Earlier this afternoon my mom counted out the money. We made almost $450.

My mom counted out $100, tossed it to me, then deposited the rest in the bank in my parents' account. She didn't even ask what I thought was fair. She never discussed it.

...

So I'm pissed and I feel like my parents robbed me, but I can't say anything. There's no way to bring it up without sounding greedy or ungrateful. But goddammit, I worked my ass off and sold mostly my stuff... then they took over 75% of the money. That's fucking bullshit.

But that's okay! My mom decided to celebrate by taking the money and buying some nice food at the local market. A celebration dinner, she called it.

And she just asked me to cook it.

I spent four months painting a picture for my parents. They asked me to do it. It took me so long because it was in a style I was not familiar with.

They did not pay me. They said "Well..we raised you." basically.
 
I was in traffic today. I was behind the ONE person in South Jersey who goes UNDER the speed limit. I was 4 minutes late for class because of that schmuck. Even for construction speeds this schmuck was going slow, like 5-6 miles under the speed-limit.
 
The rat that was on antibiotics has regressed and now he's back to where he was before we started medicine. We cannot spend $100 a month on medication for a disease the vet said is going to kill him eventually anyway. On top of that, another rat is developing a problem, but he's early enough that we may actually be able to stop it. So now we're weighing whether to take one rat in for meds while putting the other to sleep, or taking both in, or doing nothing.

In my opinion, the one who had meds is perpetually sick without them. We can't keep pouring money into an animal that the vet gave a 4-month remaining life expectancy. But my wife doesn't feel right bringing the other one in, who actually has a shot at another year.

So... it sucks, and I'm not sure if we should get more rats after this. I've had pets; I can handle the ups and downs, the fact that they don't live long. My wife never had pets growing up, so all this is new to her and she doesn't seem adjusted to handle the fact that they're going to die, sooner than we'd like. And we can't spend everything on them; we want to get a house someday and do other things with our lives. Might be more correct to not have pets, as it isn't to take them in and then not take responsibility or proper care for them.
 
The alternative is to let them die when they get sick, which is significantly less expensive, but seems more barbaric. Rats live 2-3 yrs on average (this is a major plot point in a recent fantasy series). Even mice live longer (up to twice as long).

Ferrets can live 7-9 years, but are susceptible to some serious ailments and can be a handful to manage.
Chinchillas can live 10-12 years, but have unusual care requirements compared to other rodents.
Rabbits have a pretty long lifespan as well, but they. Chew. Everything.

--Patrick
 
My parents' garage was a mess. Admittedly some of it was my fault, because I was storing a few things there. But mostly it was a mess because they had mountains of crap they hadn't touched for years (sometimes decades).

So...
  • I came up with the plan to have a garage sale
  • I made signs
  • I posted signs
  • I personally cleaned out for the garage for them (they basically sat back and watched as I pulled things out and sorted at their direction)
  • I hauled away all the large, heavy objects
  • I used my truck to get heavy tables for a rental place
  • I contacted a bunch of my friends and got them to loan me more tables and other things
  • I priced items
  • I sorted items
  • I got up early on both Saturday and Sunday and came out, where I did the majority of set up (moving tables, placing objects)
  • I hung the signs
  • I provided around $20 in change for the cash box
  • I spent 7am-3pm both Saturday and Sunday in the sun dealing with customers, loading shit into people's vehicles, etc.
  • I cleaned up, almost entirely by myself
  • I took the unsold crap to the dumps
  • I took the unsold furniture to sell (hopefully) online on their behalf
Earlier this afternoon my mom counted out the money. We made almost $450.

My mom counted out $100, tossed it to me, then deposited the rest in the bank in my parents' account. She didn't even ask what I thought was fair. She never discussed it.

...

So I'm pissed and I feel like my parents robbed me, but I can't say anything. There's no way to bring it up without sounding greedy or ungrateful. But goddammit, I worked my ass off and sold mostly my stuff... then they took over 75% of the money. That's fucking bullshit.

But that's okay! My mom decided to celebrate by taking the money and buying some nice food at the local market. A celebration dinner, she called it.

And she just asked me to cook it.
Hand her the $100 bucks back "Nah, Mom, You paid me for the heavy lifting, least I could do is pay you for the light. Call us when supper's ready." Quick hug, peck on the cheek and a whispered 'Luv Ya Mom" and bug out.
 
The alternative is to let them die when they get sick, which is significantly less expensive, but seems more barbaric. Rats live 2-3 yrs on average (this is a major plot point in a recent fantasy series). Even mice live longer (up to twice as long).

Ferrets can live 7-9 years, but are susceptible to some serious ailments and can be a handful to manage.
Chinchillas can live 10-12 years, but have unusual care requirements compared to other rodents.
Rabbits have a pretty long lifespan as well, but they. Chew. Everything.
Thanks for the suggestions. I did look into ferrets, but I don't think they're a possibility until we have a house.

Tonight fucking sucked. As the sick rat went into another episode the moment I took him and his brothers out so I could clean the cage, my wife and I talked and decided we needed to stop this. He was starving despite food all around him, and choking the moment he left a certain spot of his cage. He's been suffering and as the vet gave him only a little time left to live, it didn't seem right to shove him through it.

We took him and his brothers to the 24-hour animal hospital down the street. They put the box they were in inside an oxygen cage, which I think helped ease him a little. When we came to say goodbye, they were all cuddled together in a corner. My wife was in tears, but she held him as they gave him an anesthesia shot. We took the brothers away, leaving the sick one in the oxygen cage, and I think they were a little high on the extra oxygen since they were playing like when they were babies. After a while, the vet brought us the shoebox with the euthanized one inside.

My wife handled this better than when the baby rat died earlier this year (killed by the one we had to put down tonight), but it still was sad. I wasn't really feeling the weight of it until we laid the body on the couch for the brothers to inspect. They didn't seem to get it at first, and I put them elsewhere so they could eat a bit. When I brought them back, things were different. They started sniffing the body, nudging him. The one who's e a compulsive cleaner started licking the dead one's neck and face. The one who was buddies with the dead rat cuddled up next to him. Then the two living brothers went to the other side of the couch and pressed against each other with their heads hanging over, staring at the floor.

After a few minutes, they snapped out of it and started acting normal again. I put them away since too much exposure is supposed to invite them eating the dead one. It's gonna be a hard night for one, since he usually slept with the dead one. Rats seem to pair up and though the two remaining ones came together, they've never really gotten along and it was up to the third brother to be the friend to both, even though they all came from the same litter.

This weekend we're taking him to my aunt's house to bury him since we have no yard and can't cremate him at this point. I'm hoping we won't have to do this again for a long while.
 
They started sniffing the body, nudging him. The one who's e a compulsive cleaner started licking the dead one's neck and face. The one who was buddies with the dead rat cuddled up next to him. Then the two living brothers went to the other side of the couch and pressed against each other with their heads hanging over, staring at the floor. After a few minutes, they snapped out of it and started acting normal again.
Learn from their example. Don't spend too long grieving over the lost one and get back to your life, as well. If you scale their 2-3yr lifespan up to a human's 70-100yr lifespan, that means they grieved for at most a couple of hours in people time. Don't let it break you.

--Patrick
 
Learn from their example. Don't spend too long grieving over the lost one and get back to your life, as well. If you scale their 2-3yr lifespan up to a human's 70-100yr lifespan, that means they grieved for at most a couple of hours in people time. Don't let it break you.

--Patrick
We're doing fine; I appreciate the advice nonetheless. The death of the baby rat back in April was a lot harder since it was sudden and felt wrong. This guy had a good life. It just sucks.
 
I've been having a pain in my mouth I thought was from a wisdom tooth. Turns out no, it's from a canker sore that's growing on the gum on an incredibly awkward spot next to the tooth. It's impossible to eat anything without aggravating it.
 
I've been having a pain in my mouth I thought was from a wisdom tooth. Turns out no, it's from a canker sore that's growing on the gum on an incredibly awkward spot next to the tooth. It's impossible to eat anything without aggravating it.
I can't remember what they're called, but there are these little white dots you can stick on a canker sore. They'll burn for a minute, but the sore will be sizzled off.
 
Call me Blacktoe, 'cause I'm the idiot who was cutting chicken at the edge of a plate on the edge of the counter, and the whole fucking thing came crashing down on my big toe, rim of the plate right on the nail.

Fuckedy, fuck fuck fuck.
 
Hello Mr. Blacktoe, I'm Swol N. Pinkietoe. I like to always catch my little toe on the corner of EVERYTHING! :mad:
I've found milk crates being used for storage of heavy things are the absolute worst for this. It doesn't just stub, it catches.
 
Can't speak for dick ticks, but as for my toe--seven hours after incident, it was only hurting worse, and the rest of the toes on that foot joined in. My wife insisted we go to the ER because the internet said they could be broken.

Fortunately not broken, but I had to get a hole burned through my toe to relieve a bulging blood clot. On top of that, my wife who was all "I'm in charge for tonight; you have to let me take care of you" ended up fainting in the treatment room. I love her, but this is why I'm usually the one who handles stress situations. On the bright side, worrying about her distracted me from the pain of having blood squeezed out of my foot, so she did help me.

I feel like crap for being off-work when we have a big order coming and they need me, but I'm having a hard time walking and anyone wanting to know why would only need to see the horrible thing. I'm hoping I'll be able to walk better as the day goes on.

Also, oxycodone was kind to me.
 
I'm on youtube looking at a bunch of un-bought pilots....dammit Cartoon Network. People think American animation is dead, but the real reason is becuase you aren't buying more cartoons!
 
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