November 30th, 2012


Time/Date Impaired

I've known for years that I was time/date impaired, but just not how bad it really is.

So, I hear the Greek chorus say, "How bad is bad?" in a skeptical-sounding voice, sure I must be making a mountain out of a mole hill. Two recent examples:

The day I took Bandita to the vet's I tried to open the town library door, as my car's clock (which I had changed on the proper day), read 12:17. The door was locked.

Speaking to noboby, but with a woman walking past within hearing distance, I stated what I thought to be true. "I thought the library opened at 12:00."

She had just seen me pull the handle. The lights were dark.

I can't remember now if I stated the time, or she just checked her wrist watch automatically, then kindly volunteered it. (There IS a large time/temp visible on the square from where I'd parked. I didn't look at it, but at the display in my car.)

"It's only 11:17," she said, not even a hint of laughter in her voice.

"Oh, my car clock reads 12:17."

"You must have forgotten to change it," she surmised.

Okay, I'll admit it. I didn't correct her. I guess I'd rather be thought sloppy than admit that I was that incompetent.

I totally forgot about that incident (and the car clock is still not changed -- I honestly DID forget about it. I was focused on erasing Bandita's pain and keeping her in the tiny car crate for as little time as possible.) I walked around the corner of the building, delivered book after book to the tiny opening into the building that serves as a book drop, and went home.

Today, I awoke late, 9:45. I went past two clocks in the kitchen (digital readouts) one in the living room, weighed, forgot what time it was, returned to the living room display, saw it was 8:45. Marked it down, then returned to the bedroom. 9:45. I padded back to the kitchen, thinking I was having trouble with a standard display, which can happen with a quick glance, unfortunately, but not when I pay attention. Indisputably 8:45. The bedroom really WAS off. I fished it down, adjusted it, then decided I really wasn't sure which display was right.

Good old Google produced Official time in milliseconds, accurate to milliseconds, from a government web site,, that offered up a map of the US with the time zones highlighted. Clicking in the appropriate area of the country not only led me to the correct time, but also told me the sun was shining in the highlighted cone of light revealed on a globe in addition to the digital data. Very well-thought-out visual.

Verdict: Three right, four wrong. Not a very inspiring average.

I tried to hang up the lovely clock George had gotten for me by reaching up from the floor. Instead, I managed to pull the small hook out of the ceiling. SS is coming this afternoon. I'll have to let her climb and rescrew/hang... The only reason I tried it from the floor was the near fall I took when I changed it last time.

Padding back to the bathroom, I corrected the time I took the drops on my log. At least I got the sunlight part right. Let's look on the bright side. No headache, eyes still working.

The Squalling Eight Squad

Bandita is highly depressed. She can't stand the pain, even medicated, of allowing the kittens to suck, but is equally distressed by the squalls.

So is Two Faced. She eventually stole all eight survivors, one at a time, and brought them into the living room, where she cleaned them up and "fed" them. Of course, she has no milk any more.

Bandita is so worn out, she didn't even try to stop it after she had curled up with the first two, the tiny ones, and hissed when Two Faced appeared, ready to lay the third with the first two. She wisely backed off, bringing the kitten to my feet instead.

I heated some water to put in the cat food and hydrated them with about three oz. each while the handful of cat food was soaking on a plastic container top with a low lip that would keep the food in without keeping inept kittens out. The biggest/best can climb out of the crate, but several of the tiny ones don't/can't, I'm not sure which.

The noise did not diminish one dollop. I heated some milk, the skim I have in the fridge, and gave the most willing four droppers full, the least two. I set them on the floor as I finished, where Two Faced collected and "nursed" them. Four tiny drops of yellow-orange= immediate input= outgo. Clean the carpet time.

I tried each with a nugget of cat food, but only Queen Bee (the one you told me to name) took one willingly, eating with relish until it was totally gone. A second one was only good for one bite. None of them went for the cottage cheese juice.

I put the long-suffering blue shag Bandita chose as her favorite in the bath tub. It is fluffy and thick, so the tub won't chill them unless they choose to crawl off it. Bandita sits on the edge of the tub, staring sadly down at them.