Tonight is a coaster-throwing kind of night.

You know: where you’re so angry and frustrated with one particular thing that you’d really like to hurl it at the wall except that it would completely destroy that thing and you really did pay a lot of money for it, not to mention the hole in the wall that it would probably create that would spend everyday hence staring at you and reminding you that you have anger issues so instead you spend the next hour flinging stolen bar coasters at anything that moves.  Which totally explains the coaster my husband just found in the kitchen.

Tonight the straws on my proverbial camel’s back were put there by technology.  Primarily, my laptop and my music collection.  You see, I got my iPod Touch in the mail today, which was purchased to replace my iPod Nano.  Which did not survive the wash and dry cycle that it was put through.  Which explains why Kyle slept outside for 2 nights.  Let me tell you, there is not a more terrible feeling than opening the dryer and watching your iPod come tumbling out.

I decided to get the Touch most for all the organizational features on it.  I was so psyched to be able to keep by music, videos, pictures, calender, to do list, e-mail, and appointments all on one handy little device.  Coming from the girl who lost everything not nailed to her for a period of years, this was an exhilarating prospect.  I was going to be able to find anything I needed,  be it a song or an e-mail, with the stroke of a finger.  Awesome.

So I pull my iPod out of it’s pretty white box, and I plug it in, and I get ready to put all my music on it.  Problem is, before I can slide my music  into the neat, organized little folders on my iPod, I have to put it into neat, organized little folders in iTunes.  Bu t before I can do that, I have to put it into neat, organized little folders on my hard drive.  And in order to do that, I have to collect it all from the piles and folders within folders that have collected on two computers and an external hard drive and put it into neat, organized little folders so that I can then sync it with the 9 COMPUTERS that exist in this 1,100 sq ft apartment.  And after that I  have to organize my e-mail contacts, enter all my phone numbers, create folders for and organize all my e-mails, fill in all missing artist and album information for my music, find missing album artwork, enter all my appointments, organize and label all my pictures (including the pre-iPod collection and organization,) and convert all my video into an appropriate format.  And in the meantime, iTunes doesn’t want to install, my internet connection wants to go down, and my computer wants me to re-do all the work I just did organizing my music because it can remember where I put it.

But what I think angers me the most is the fact that this technology comes in the guise of saving me time and making my life less stressful, when actually it’s turned into a black hole for my time.  So far, I have spent almost 7 hours dinking with this thing, and all I’ve managed to do is organize 1/6 of my music.  It came out of the box all, “Look at me, all sleek and shiny, let me make your life easier and organize for you,” when actually it’s done the opposite and kept me from doing all the productive things that I should be doing right now that have fallen to the wayside because I’m playing with my iPod instead.  Honestly, if I were to trade this sophisticated piece of machinery for a Walkman, a calender, and a photo album my life would be a hell of a lot less complicated right now; a lot more cumbersome, perhaps, but certainly easier.  Instead, all this gadget has done so far is forced me to do what I should have done in the first place and just get fucking organized!  How dare it trick me into be responsible!  This is 2009; shouldn’t it be taking care of all that responsibility for me?  Surely there’s an app for that.

So thank you, Steve Jobs.  Thank you for allowing me the privellage of paying $200 to organize my own life.  Fortunately for you, the idea of being able to carry my world on a tiny device that will then destroy my life when I loose it is one that my generation can’t refuse.  And I feel safe with the knowledge that you’ll be there to let me shell out more hard earned money to experience the anger and the glory all over again the next time my husband runs it through the dryer.

Well, not my foot.  It was my husband’s foot.  But the important thing to know is that it was a foot, and pee was involved.

As most of you know, this past week has been 7 levels of insane; the awake to sleep ratio has been severely lopsided.  So my husband and I were really looking forward to sleeping in this morning; we don’t have anywhere to be until 1:00, and we planned to take full advantage of it.  We got in bed, smugly set our alarm for 11:30, and set in to enjoy some long, snuggly, sleepy-sleeps.

Which abruptly came to a halt at about 10am, when my husband leaped out of bed screaming, “Oh, you’ve GOT to be kidding me!”  Our sweet little Mila kitty had so kindly peed…while we were in the bed…on my husband’s foot.  Awesome.

Since the original incident almost a month ago, Mila had been behaving herself, and though we still wouldn’t let them in the bedroom while we were gone  Mila was back to sleeping with me at night.  I’d decided not to volunteer at the shelter, (I’m doing work for their website instead,) and we thought it would no longer be an issue.  Then on Friday morning, she had the audacity to do it right in front of us while we were getting ready to go to the theatre.  What the hell, cat?  So we threw our sheets in the laundry, ran out the door, and proceeded to put in the same 16 hour workday that we’d been doing for about the last week and a half.  And like our mail, the dishwasher, and Kyle’s aunt’s birthday (happy birthday, Sandy,) it was forgotten.

Until this morning.  When we were forced to come to terms with the fact that we have an actual issue on our hands.  According to the internet, (which is where I get all my valuable information from,) cats often use urine marking when they feel stressed and threatened.  Now, I don’t know about threatened, exactly, but I can see how our household could be considered stress-inducing, as of late.  In our attempt to put up a show in 10 days, we’ve been leaving the house at 8am and not returning until 11pm or later.  When we did get home, it was a quick check of the e-mail and into bed.  And the house was (and still is, though not as bad,) a living disaster area.  Our clean laundry mountain was melding with our dirty laundry mountain, and when I got dressed on Saturday morning I wasn’t 100% confident that the underpants I was wearing were clean.  Our dishwasher hadn’t been run in about a week.  So, yeah, I can see how our house has been a little stressful as of late.

So needless to say, we’re going to take both kitties to the vet, just to make sure that it’s nothing physical.  We’re also going to get the special pet pee cleaner and a plug-in that’s supposed to soothe them.  And hopefully it will stop.  But it breaks my heart that we can’t let them in the bedroom at all anymore.  And it breaks my heart that our behavior is causing our pets enough stress that they feel they have to defend their home.

Any suggestions?  Or would you like a free cat?

This isn’t a real post.

This is an excuse.

This is my way of explaining the fact that I haven’t posted in 4 days, a record that I’m not proud to hold.  The thing is, there’s just been a lot of…well, shit going on.  I can’t really go into details because Kyle and I would both like to keep our jobs for the time being, and I don’t trust that those with the power to fire either of us won’t read this and take it the wrong way.  But let’s just say that for some reason this week my time is at a premium, and everyone seems to think that they hold the rights to all of it.  Thus I get to spend all my time working for various people, and none of it is work that I enjoy; it’s frustrating, infuriating, and pretty much makes me hate my life.  I’m doing work  for people I can’t stand doing jobs that are frustrating and irritating and all of it goes against everything that I stand for and hold dear.  But for a multitude of reasons, be it money or love, it’s work that I have to do.  So I scream a lot, I cry a lot, I imagine stabbing people in the face a lot, and I take my anger out on my own body by eating too many french fries…a lot.

The good news is that a large chunk of it should be finished very soon, and hopefully the insanity will subside.  And hopefully, I’ll be able to get back to my life.  (Which does, despite popular belief, involve things that don’t require a high speed internet connection.)  Until then, I implore you all to be patient, and think some sweet thoughts in my direction.

god knows i need them.