The first couple weeks of a new job are always really tough for me. I don’t know anyone. I don’t know anything. I’m trying to figure out new systems and a new commute and meeting new people and forgetting everyone’s names and I am constantly consumed with guilt that I’m not PRODUCING anything NOW NOW RIGHT NOW. I tend to stick my head down and over-immerse myself in the job, which explains why I am not doing anything else like blogging or bicycling or laundry or sleeping well. But today I wrote eight pages and I feel much better so perhaps things will settle down soon.
I’ve also been distracted because Elsa, my famous cat whose pictures are now responsible for greater than half the hits on this site, is very very sick. She has some sort of stomach thing going on that causes her to vomit up great quantities of brackish goo and stuff that looks kind of like bits of liver. This is really distressing, to say the least. She’s been in and out of the vet all week, hasn’t been eating, and I’m on the four-times-a-day-wrestle-pills-down-her-throat plan which is just joyful for both of us. I am trying to make light of it all, of course, but I am really worried. Really worried. When she turned fifteen in January and was still healthy I kind of figured she would be one of those old cats that just sort of faded away quietly in a warm patch of sunlight. I didn’t think she would get horribly sick and end up hating me for stuffing pills into her and dragging her off to the vet all the time in her later days.
I am hoping this is a passing thing and that she will get better. (crossing fingers.)