The Rule of Threes . . .

. . . as in “Bad Things Happen In.” It was in effect here over the past 24 hours. Nothing awful bad, mind you, but just sort of cumulatively ennervating, and from three completely different directions and places.

1. One of my cats has to have surgery to remove lumps in her stomach that are most likely mammary tumors. She’ll probably be okay, but I always hate the thought of having to do stuff like that to pets, since you can’t explain to them that it’s for their own good, the way you can with a human. They just know you’re leaving them at the vet, and that something hurts.

2. The Predator (my family’s own version of Courtney Love) has popped out of her spiderhole to make life miserable for assorted kith and kin. Again. Count yourself fortunate if you’ve never had to deal with a mentally ill junkie in the family.

3. It was a grey and dreary day at work today, and I had four students at the office with not a lot to do since it was so yucky out, and I had planned to have them working in the gardens. So I decided to take everybody out for lunch, which was very nice, except that when we returned, we discovered that someone had come in the building and stolen one of the students’ laptop computer and cell phone out of the lounge. Stealing from a church, for Pete’s sake, sheesh. The student was devastated at the loss of property and I feel institutionally violated by knowing someone was in my space with nefarious intent. The afternoon was spent searching (we found her Nalgene water bottle in the bushes outside the building, but nothing else), dealing with police and campus safety and insurance companies and the like, and just generally feeling really, really, really sorry for my student.

Bleurgh. I think it’s time for some comfort Macaroni and Cheese. Macaroni and Cheese makes everything better.

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