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The Toybox

people for the conservation of limited amounts of indignation

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a week in the life of
So two really fantastic people sent me LJ chocolates, which is the coolest thing *ever*. Thank you. I didn't see them and then I did and it was--seriously a surprise. A lovely, welcome, thank you so much you have no idea how much I needed that surprise.

Also, when did LJ get an autodraft save function? *blinks at message* Right, carrying on.

Okay, so i've been kinda-sorta avoiding my friendslist, in that way where I started looking again right before bed last night since Monday. No, no deep trauma, unless you count filling out pre-requisition forms and finally, really understanding the horror that is government bureaucracy when all you want is a new chair.

Here is the short version of my Tuesday.

1.) Chick says, I want a new chair!
2.) Emails super. He says yes.
3.) Super emails me. Make it happen, jenn.
4.) I say, you are kidding me.

That's just the informal stuff. For those of you who are lucky enough not to work in government, here is how the magic happens.

1.) I fill out a prerequisition form, detailing what we want (chair), exacting details (blue, sliding seat, blah), where to buy it from, how much it costs, how many we want, and a good reason we should have it. I did not say, so we don't have to sit on the floor, or are you stupid, why do you think people want chairs? Because I am not an idiot. Mostly.

2.) Send it to super, who sends it back with a nod.

3.) Send it to E, who is the one with the actual power to send a prerequisition form. You see the word there, right? Pre. Requisition. All this for the pre work.

4.) Sent to Superuser, who sends out for a bid on the chair, even though we know the price and know where to get it. Gets the bid back, decides if we really need to not sit on the floor, *then* fills out the requisition form. Which still requires approval again, from somewhere, and then the actual requisition is sent.

This is the short version, for things below five thousand dollars, which only requires six to ten people to sign off on it. As you can probably guess, I asked Super if I could requisitioin a hot tub for office morale, since Amazon.com had a couple for under five thousand. He hasn't said no.

Seriously, I hate my life. My rabbit is eating my hair, Child keeps putting Junior the Freaking Bearded Dragon on my knee when I'm not looking and his tiny, tiny claws are making me leap and scream, at which time I get lectured about traumatizing the lizard, our live cricket supply keeps dying before it goes down the gullet of the aforementioned Freaking Bearded Dragon, and we upgraded him to bigger crickets and for some reason, I cannot keep that damn terrarium warm. We live in *Texas* for God's sake. But a heating lamp, a heating pad, a rock, and teh warmest part of the house? Not keeping it above ninety. Also, we were lectured on the fact that we can't use sand in the terrarium of our Freaking Bearded Dragon From Hell, or it would get sand in its gullet and die.

Bearded Dragons are native to the desert! What. The. Hell? Is it too good for its natural habitat now?

So now the Freaking Bearded Dragon has an astroturf terrarium lining (Astroturf. Lining.), I bought a leash for Reggie the Homicidal Rabbit so I could take him outside and he tried very hard to chew out my collarbone during the horror of putting it on him, and I'm surfing Amazon.com for a--a *pet playpen* so I can take The Rabbit That Does Not Love Me But Eats My Hair (I pulled an inch out of his lying mouth! I thought he was nuzzling me! Until the sounds of chewing began.) outside to play without risking him getting away or eating something he shouldn't or, I don't know, climbing a tree and leaping off to kill me when he's gained sufficient height and I want a new life right now. Now. Nownownownow oh my god when I was eight, I never ever saw myself scared to go into the den because of reptiles and wearing a sweater over my hair when I feed the rabbit and filling out prerequisition forms for ridiculous chairs so we don't sit on the floor. I mean, I saw myself doing a lot of swinging adn being allowed to eat cookies whenever I wanted, and I hate to say this, but at this point, that just isnt' as much fun as it should be.

Also, two more jobs like the one I turned down showed up this week and I pretty much put my head down on my desk and tried not to cry. I'm not this good a person. I want. I want a lot. And I can't have and I know life isn't fair, but it shouldn't be this unfair either. And somehow, being strong enough to turn it down does not equal being strong enough not to be bitter.

Okay, now that my anger has been spilled--and this is only the stuff I can talk about without gibbering in helpless rage--

Yesterday at work, a water main broke, setting off the fire alarms, pitched for breaking glass, and pretty much the best part of my night was when I got a call stating there was no work today, as the servers are sparking and trying to electrocute everyone in sight. I *revel* in this.

Took Dad to the Animal Shelter, went through the interview process, and bought Dad a dog on Sunday. It's a medium German Shepherd, very social, very sweet, understands voice commands okay, lays around and loves everyone. He and Dad bonded on sight. Luke had heartworms, so he just came off treatment, but Dad just--I can't really explain how weird it was. We went to look at him, since he was still in the vet's shed, and he and Dad looked at each other and it was Love at First Sight. I honestly didn't know that could happen, but there was this instant connection. So first vet appointment is this Saturday, where he'll get a full physical and we set up the heartworm continuing treatment plan. He can't be active for the next two months, but he should be fine after.

It did surprise me. Luke is a gorgeous dog, neutered, fantastically well-adjusted, and right, I can see why the heartworm thing would throw people a little off. But once Dad saw Luke, he never even blinked, and even I can estimate the cost this can be.

Dogs and I have a varied history. When I was four, I was attacked by the pet of a family friend and while it didn't turn me phobic--it messed up the left side of my face a little and my knee for a few months, but kids heal fast and at the time, since no one ever told me I was supposed to be freaked out about my appearance or by being attacked, it never occured to me to pick up a terror of animals from it--it did instill a sense of wariness, which is why at the shelter, it was weird to walk around with all these adult dogs and let them touch me or be petted and pick up my scent without kind of flinching. Not bad, but kind of overwhelming--I don't think in my life, I've ever been around so many adult dogs at once, and I had enough sense not to let them see me flinching from them, but. Weird.

Luke though, he's--he's impossible to not touch.

Dad's just--happy. He's needed a companion animal, since he needs to walk more due to his arthritis, and Luke's care keeps him moving and working. Dad is hard to shop for, so this was his birthday present, since his birthday is next month. It's amazing to be able to make someone that happy with something so simple. I feel I'm balancing some kind of karma here. It's weird to be able to make people happy and not tell me to go away and/or be a better person and/or say that I did something wrong. Not to mention Luke is revelling in the attention. We have to keep him under careful watch so he doesn't try to be too active, but slow walks around the neighborhood seem to be doing the trick. He's trained to go outside for any elimination processes, we have a DVD of training information, and next thing up is activating pet insurance for him and Reggie as soon as we've had them long enough and chosen a good vet for each of them permanently. I've read enough horror stories about rabbits that I want to be prepared in case something happens. I still need to take Reggie to get his well-pet exam and make plans for neutering, but he doesn't need any more shots until six to eight months, so around July-August is looking good, aside from a well-pet checkup probably early next month when I can get him into a pet carrier without another set of scratches like the ones I currently carry, and having been bitten once by tiny, yet surprisingly strong, rabbit teeth--well, in no hurry for that to happen again.

Bunny claws? Sharp.

I just need to find a calm spot again and go shopping. What are credit cards but to max out, after all?

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This is the short version, for things below five thousand dollars, which only requires six to ten people to sign off on it.

...Do you guys use SAP? Because my company does that that rigamarole is frighteningly familiar.

SAP? *curious* We have--honestly, i have no idea what happens after the superuser gets it and sends it up to God or whoever does final approvals.

we inherited my son's 2nd grade rabbits (he's in 6th grade now), and the guys are still with us. as it's winter, they are living in a cage in the garage, where it's warmer, while in the summer, we put down chicken wire ('cause they *dig*), a play yard, and then plywood on the top, as those guys jump, too.

Plus the plywood keeps the cats out, as I don't really want the vet bills from the cat vs. rabbit death match.

Oh, and we ended up using welder's glovers to move them around as those hind legs are strong and the claws are really, really sharp. But these guys are 4 years old and really big.

Awww! How cute!

And welder's gloves. Okay, that is a thought. A *good* thought.

You owe me a new spleen woman! I broke mine laughing over "Junior the Freaking Bearded Dragon". (That should be a kid's book, btw. Something designed to make parents shudder and kids scream with horrified delight.)

And put one hand over your eyes before you browse here. No really, you have to, it's funny!


Years ago when I lived in New Orleans we used to catch the little green lizards and hang them on our ear lobes for ~ear rings~... although they could bite a little hard on occasion creating humorous leaping around and shreiking... stupid kids...


Okay, it doen'snt hurt, but...oh my God. That would--I'd *pass out*.

Oh, I'm very glad to hear about your father and Luke. As to bunnies, they're psychotic little shits.

Yes. *narrowed eyes* Yes they are.

Yay, Dad and Luke!

When my dad went through a wicked awful period and seemed to be slipping further and further into a really scary depression, I took a gamble and adopted a cheerfully ridiculous little rat terrier for him, claiming the dog was an early Father's Day present.

Dad fell in love as soon as he saw the dog. Named the little moron "Watson" and came back to life with an enthusiasm we hadn't seen in ages. If I accomplished nothing else during my brief return to Texas, I at least did that Just Right. I wish your dad and Luke continued delight in their new bond.

I'm sorry about the job stuff, though. I'll keep my fingers crossed for you that maybe someone really assy takes a solidly heart-stuttering zap before the water damage gets repaired.

In the meantime, good luck with the Wascally Wabbit.

*grins* So far so good. I like seeing them together. He's all into vets and regular walkings and watching for Luke's heart rate going too high. It's the cutest thing. And God, teh angst over dog food. We have to take *the dog with us* to go shopping for it now, since he doesn't like ths stuff I picked out originally.

So cute.

Yeah. Me and the rabbit. Will have words.

And God, teh angst over dog food. We have to take *the dog with us* to go shopping for it now, since he doesn't like ths stuff I picked out originally.

OMGyessss! I'm dying over here about this because you are totally describing my father and Watson. Within an hour of that dog being in my father's care, Watson had more toys than my brother and I ever had, combined. And we were not neglected children by any means.

Dude. Just wait until summer rolls around and your dad finds those special canine ice cream treats in the frozen foods section. Because if the dog has to come along to help pick out Just The Right Food, then the nummy frozen specialty snacks aren't far behind.

Yeah. Me and the rabbit. Will have words.

The trick is getting the rabbit to care. Best of luck with that, sister. I still can't get the ferret to even fake a concerned face (the best I get is, "That's so weird, because when you say 'no' like that? It's almost as if you don't expect me to get my way. ...I don't get it.") and I've been working on him for a few years now.

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*eyes you* Next time? I am dying your hair *pink*. With sprinkles!

*panickedly looking for the right chair form*

Government bureaucracy is the same everywhere, isn't it? This reminds me of the previous job, when I couldn't get a computer or phone set up in an empty office because it was designated "government only" and I was a contractor. I got so dammed tired of it all, ugh.

I hope you get the chair.

I know love at first sight with dogs. That was how it was with Kirby, who we adopted when he was one. Since Teddy was a puppy, he loved everyone, but I tell you there's nothing like coming home and having those two greet me, leaping and wiggling and licking my hands. Does the rabbit lick at all? I won't ask about Junior the Freaking Bearded Dragon because really? I don't want to know.

*sighs* I'm just scared I misspelled or crossed the wrong t and they'll *send it back*.

Awww, dog love! Yes, Luke is amazing with people and Dad and he are just--yeah. It's wonderful.

The rabbit licks. Then he nuzzles. And then there's an inch of hair gone.


I never knew I was this vain about my hair, but for a second there, it was not zen in the land of jenn hair--tehre might have been hysteria.

If you've been avoiding LJ, you might not have seen this. Speaking of rabbits.



Where fact and fiction collide

As I was reading of your trials and tribulations of rabbitry... I was reminded of a recent SGA story... where the rabbit like creature accidentally ate an ancient device and grew very very large... now where DID I read that? hmmmmmmmm

Hopefully that won't happen in your real world ;-)

ps... I love that whole series!

Re: Where fact and fiction collide

You know she did that on purpose to freak me out, right? And I keep accidentally calling the bunny Max.

That--can't happen, actually. I mean, I know this intellectually.

I think. *tries not to bite nails*

Re: Where fact and fiction collide

"You know she did that on purpose to freak me out, right? And I keep accidentally calling the bunny Max."

Bwahahaa! that's so cool... ummm, I mean cruel... cooly cruel? real fuckin funny?

::more giggling:: aren't friends great?

I, uh, hehehehehe. I know I shouldn't laugh, but you're funny, dammit. I think reptiles and rabbits have to be some of the most pain-in-the-ass creatures to raise--their psychology is impenetrable.

If stuffing a bunny into a carrier is anything like stuffing a cat into a carrier, I recommend the method of standing the carrier on end, open door facing upwards, and lowering the beastie into it. I had a heck of a time trying to shove Dizzy in through the door of a horizontal carrier -- he'd brace paws on the edges of the door -- until I figured that trick out.

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