Taking Advice

All my non-virtual friends will tell you, that I know how to give good, sensible advice. My advice is considered, rational and smart. My friends will also tell you, I'm rubbish at taking it. Until recently. I am learning to follow my instincts. I have to say, it's a bit weird. Yes, I'm still spouting advice at any given moment, but I am becoming more aware that people tend to do things in their own way, in their own time. And actually, it's a bit of wasted breath trying to get them to do 'the sensible thing'.

The advice I took? I took my cat to the vet, as per Dianne's advice. I'm really chuffed I did. Though I would say that the cat is still unimpressed with the whole procedure; she's not keen on injections. She had a steriod injection for the scratching, plus this new whizzy Front-line, plus a spray to do the flat, plus a flea comb.

If you really want my advice, the best way to spend a Friday night is on the kitchen floor with a bowl of hot water and several drops of lavender oil, a flea comb, and a scratching cat. Words fail to describe how satisfying it is to comb the little buggers out of her coat and drown them. The cat purred so much I was sure she was going to hurt her throat. The down side is that for every flea we took off of her, there are probably another 90 in the carpet somewhere.

But not for long. Tomorrow is my day off (the first day off for 6 days) and boy and I will be attending to the fleas. We will have to read the instructions on the tin, apparently this stuff is scary, kills all sorts of creepy-crawlies. Unfortunately, it does mean I have to do the laundry so I can hoover the floor.

I'm sure you never intended to stop by to read about my de-fleaing adventures, I am sorry. But next week I go onto my part-time hours and if I don't do some college work soon, I'm going to get my butt seriously kicked. So I promise, normal service will be resumed.