My brother told me that I should be careful about the persona I’m creating on this blog. “You’re coming across like Andy Rooney,” he warned. “Your friends might think it’s funny, but the people who don’t know you will think you’re a cranky old jerk.”
I see his point, so I’ll refrain from writing about my experience at Apple’s “Genius Bar” (gag) and instead I’ll write about something that shows me in a better light: my love of animals.
Earlier this week Sabine was out celebrating Hanukkah with Tablet Magazine, so our pets still had to be fed when I got home from work. Sure, it might not be as dangerous as working on an oil rig, but I was starving and we have four animals in the house–two cats and one rabbit, plus a guest rabbit we’re taking care of for two weeks.
And it’s complicated: Barnaby, one of the cats, pukes if he eats too much at once, so I have to give him a little bit and then wait 20 minutes before I give him the rest. Of course, if I do that I have to do the same for Gilbert, the other cat, otherwise Barnaby pushes him aside and eats his food. And the rabbits have to be kept on different floors because our 3-pound handicapped rabbit Peanut tries to kill any creature bigger than her and Blu, the guest rabbit, keeps trying to climb the stairs.
Feeding done, I had to take out the trash, then empty the dishwasher (yes, we have a dishwasher, we paid good money for it, so suck it). Finally, I could make dinner for myself.
I looked around to see what we had, but a) there wasn’t much, b) I have no imagination, and c) I can’t cook worth a damn, so I made tuna salad with the only can of tuna in the house and poured myself a glass of wine to class it up a little. That’s when I heard the crash downstairs.
Earlier that day Sabine had sent me this photo of Blu, so I had a pretty good idea of what to expect. Rabbits love to chew on electrical cords, and after dealing with a malfunctioning laptop that led to the unpleasant visit to the Apple Genius Bar that I’m not going to write about, I wasn’t in the mood for any more electronic mishaps.
As I ran downstairs yelling at the rabbit to get off the desk I tripped on the cooler we’re using to keep the bunnies apart, neatly upending my tuna salad bowl on the floor.
The clean-up was no fun, particularly with Barnaby all over me because of the tuna smell, and Blu all over Barnaby just because.
But before I could scavenge for a replacement dinner, it was time to prepare Peanut’s nightly arthritis medication. As I worked on it (mashing a liquid and a powder with a slice of banana), I noticed Barnaby playing with a piece of insulation. I gave Peanut her meds, then went to take away the insulation from Barnaby, but I couldn’t find it anymore; evidently he had swallowed it. I worried that it might kill him, but I was so hungry that I decided panicking could wait.
I finally was able to sit down for dinner (pita bread with cheese because I couldn’t come up with anything else)–time ponder the question that had been nagging me all day: Why the hell did the so-called Genius at Apple have a pen tucked behind each ear?