My new unit of measurement.

There is a hornet as big as a brain tumor lurching around my room.

It's just spry enough that I don't think I can safely grab it with a towel. I can't use the vacuum without waking up the whole house. So I'm out here sitting on the couch glaring at everything.

I stuck a glass of apple cider vinegar in there and ran. Vinegar seems to work pretty well for drowning flies in the kitchen, but I have no idea whether bedroom hornets go in for the stuff. Maybe I should leave some beer by the door? Beer also works on the flies. I think it's too strong to get stuck in honey.

I don't know how the hell it got in there, I haven't had my windows open for days. I heard my cat doing something outside my door about half an hour ago - did she bring it to me? Is this some sort of challenge? You're such a stupid cat, I hate you.

Hornet situation concluded as of 3:48 AM.

It crawled back out under the door after me. And my cat jumped it and chewed it up. Aw, cat, look at you taking responsibility for your mistakes like that. Now if only you'd learn to operate the paper towels and bottle of enzymatic spray cleaner, maybe this house wouldn't smell so attractive to bugs in the first place.

The cat in question is a little more than a month from her seventeenth birthday, by the way - I just looked it up. She was born on April 27, 1994; we know this because her mother went into labor on Mom and Dad's bed while Richard Nixon's coffin was going into the ground on Mom and Dad's bedroom TV. I've always assumed that there was some sort of spiritual connection there. I wish I were half as agile as my ancient malevolent Republican president cat.

The apple cider vinegar smell is actually oddly pleasant, actually - I haven't been able to use it on my hair since the surgery. I kind of miss it; I'm just going to leave the cup sitting here.

...I was supposed to go back to work tomorrow, but I think I'm taking another day. My head now really hurts, and I have no idea how I'm going to get to sleep.

thegeekgene is applying to philosophy grad programs, which means I am mean to her.

I assume she's going to go stand in an agora and debate all comers or something once she's got the doctorate, so I'm helping her get ready. (She's home on spring break.) This is the important philosophical question which I posed to the philosopher:

Poll #6367 What is the worst cookie in the world?

Open to: Registered Users, detailed results viewable to: All, participants: 25

View Respondents

What is the worst cookie in the world?

View Answers

A cookie containing deadly poison.
7 (28.0%)

A cookie so unappetizing that no one would ever want to eat it.
3 (12.0%)

A cookie combining both traits.
15 (60.0%)

Some other answer.
0 (0.0%)

She says #2, because the poison cookie fulfills its essential cookie goal of making you eat it, and is therefore fully realized as a cookie. I say #3, because the Platonic ideal of the cookie is something that should be both appetizing and life-sustaining, and #3 fails at both.

She thinks the poison part's just irrelevant because it's not part of the essential cookieness of the cookie - "has poison/doesn't have poison" is not a relevant condition. Now, I think deadly poison's always pretty relevant! I mean, there aren't many situations in life where you're going to go, "deadly poison, or no deadly poison? Ehhh - doesn't really matter." When that question comes up, you generally do want a yes or no answer.

I also think she ought to write her senior thesis about the implications of the possibility of P. Diddy waking up in the morning feeling like Ke$ha. She doesn't think it's really a fruitful line of philosophical enquiry.

Steroids are horrible drugs.

I'm jittery, hyper, sweating, and obsessed with how everything smells. Every odor is an assault that leaves me reeling today, like that Andre Norton book about the perfumist girl who's oppressed by her boss's hygiene. (Not Norton's best - as someone who genuinely is seriously preoccupied with perfume, I didn't really buy the way the heroine related to it - but it's solid enough.) I've got incense burning in two rooms and I keep going through my perfumes and teas. If there were a car here and I were allowed to drive, I might have taken off for the greenhouse to stick my head in the rose bushes.

My cat seems to be aware of situation; she keeps rubbing against me. She's previously been voted the worst-smelling cat in the world, this cat. She did a lot of campaigning, she studied the issues - really earned it.

Unrelatedly, we just bought some pill pockets to try and get her old-cat stuff into her without using a pill gun. And they're working really well. She loves them, and they're really easy to fold around the medicine and seal up - sort of cat-food play-dough. I totally recommend this strategy for cats who aren't paranoid about accepting treats. (The other cat, a deeply traumatized young man who's allergic to his own fur, has to be wrapped in a towel like a burrito and pilled by hand.) It's so much easier than fooling with the pill gun.

So, so, hyper, but too dizzy to move. I hate these pills.

My Primary Foodstuff

Except for the sardines, bananas, and kimchi, this is basically what I eat all the time. It's good for when you're too loopy to cook. It's meant to sit in the slow-cooker on "keep warm" for twelve hours to a day, then be put in the fridge for a day or two longer. It gets better the longer it sits.

( Pinto Beans With Salt Bacon, And Maybe Rosemary, Pepper, Garlic, And/Or Miso )