6:39 a.m. I wake up this morning to the lady next door calling for her cat. Her voice is raspy and harsh and sounds like she's been chain-smoking for the past 50 years or so. "Here, kiiiiiiitty, kiiiiiiiitty! Here, kiiiiiiitty, kiiiiiiitty!" It's 4am. Who calls for their cat at 4am? Who calls for their cat at all?
I cover my head with my pillow in order to either muffle the sound or pass out from lack of oxygen. Either one is okay by me at this point. After 20 minutes of, "Here, kiiiiiiitty, kiiiiiiiitty!", I give up and kick the covers off as I get out of bed. I feel like yelling out the window that kitty won't be coming home anymore because I ate it for dinner last night.
As I walk toward the kitchen to put on a pot of water for tea, I feel rather smug that I am not tripping over piles of laundry. My house is clean. The refrigerator is full. I haven't killed a plant in a record two weeks. Hell has officially frozen over.
Today I'm doing an interview with a hostile Subject. He gave one of my investigators such a hard time over the phone that Corporate asked me to take over the case. I'm sort of afraid of what awaits me when this guy opens the door. His injuries include: head, neck, left arm, left leg, left hip, hands, left shoulder, and right eye. That's got to suck. Was he run over by a steamroller or something?
After getting dressed in business attire, I drive around for no less than 45 minutes trying to find gas under $3.00/gallon. Finally, I find a station selling for $2.98. I am aware that I probably blew all of my gas savings driving around looking for cheaper gas. It's the principle of the thing.
I am currently in line waiting to fill my tank. I'm five cars back and this will probably take a while. Fortunately, I have food provisions (a Kit Kat bar and Diet Pepsi) and a pee bucket. I feel smug yet again as I watch the other drivers who can't eat or pee at will.
I wonder if this was what it was like during the gas shortages in the '70's? I would seriously consider investing in a bicycle except that I'm afraid it might be hard to remain discrete when I pull out the camera. "Uh, lady...I know you keep telling me I can't see you, but I'm pretty sure you're sitting on a bike and videotaping me..."
This afternoon I get a physical and a drug test for my new job as a death investigator. My official title is Deputy Medical Examiner. I should pass the test with flying colors so long as caffeine remains a legal drug. I remember back a couple of years ago I had this crazy idea that I would go off caffeine for a couple of days. I found that I really missed the heart palpitations and the shaky hands.
Today I am going to see if I might be able to help with the forensics recovery after Katrina. I am sure it will be difficult to identify the dead after ten days and I imagine federal and local workers are going to need all the assistance they can get. It's not the most positive contribution, but it is what I know. There is an emergency response organization of forensics professionals called M.O.R.T. that responds to human disasters such as this. I was asked to join them several years ago, I just never got around to it at the time. I plan to contact them and see if they are still in need of volunteers.