I’m not particularly fond of summer in my job. Like most faculty members at colleges and universities, I was spoiled by having a nine month job. Now I have twelve month job and lots to do in the summer. Most of what I have to do is tedious. Very tedious. Writing reports and the like.

There’s nothing I loathe more than having to click on this icon at any point in my day.

And there’s nothing more likely than summer to make me click the little bastard.
Don’t assume this is an anti-Microsoft rant. I am not anti-Microsoft. I don’t root for them or anything (any more than I root for the Yankees), but they make some fine products. I cleaved to WordPerfect for a long time and then abandoned ship like everyone else. (Bring back WP 5.2, I say!) But I don’t mind Word. I am capable of producing PowerPoint slide shows that aren’t excruciating (and isn’t that the goal, after all?), and I even use Entourage as my e-mail client at work. I say all of this despite a deep loathing for Windows. Deep. The Office suite, though, is fine. Except for that little green thing.

And, no, I’m not going to name it. To name it is to give it power. There it sits waiting for me to click it. It knows where I live. It knows where I work. It haunts my dreams.

Really, it’s ruining my summer. Go ahead, name it defend it, you won’t change my mind. Evil, thy name is……..

Wanderings vary. Some are by choice. Some by coercion. Others just happen.

On the day after I returned from my slog through the South, Honey and I discovered the kittens. I don’t mean to suggest that we discovered kittens in the sense that no one had ever seen one before. In fact, we were well aware that this brood existed before we saw them. The feral cat we feed had them and brought them to semi-maturity under our house. Kittens under a house don’t sound all that dissimilar to rats in an attic, for what it’s worth. Anyway. Slinky (as we call her) had brought her kittens around to the front of the house.

Honey went to look and reported three in the brood.

We know we needed to trap them. We understand.

As we speak, in fact, there is a cat trap with tuna in the front yard. I just checked and Slink is lying next to it. I asked her why she wouldn’t go in. She had no reply. Her momma didn’t raise no fool up under the house.

So, on Monday morning, still weary from my journeys, I get in my trusty truck to drive to work.

About seven miles in to the 8 mile drive, I think I hear a sound. Then I hear it again.

It sounds like a kitten.

When I get to campus and park my car, I pop the hood of my truck. And there, sitting on the battery, is one of the kittens. I reach for it but it dives under the minivan parked next to my car.

I call the people who do feral cat stuff on campus, but no one can locate the kitten. And the other kittens seem to have disappeared too.

All week I can’t get that image out of my head. The kitten on the battery. Sometimes you go places you don’t expect and don’t like it much when you get there.

I just found a product that was made for me. Well, me and a few others. Crocs.com was out of the blue and yellow ones in my size. But then I found the yellow and blue ones. Happy sigh. If only I had them to wear through the South. They’ll arrive while I’m gone, bless their rubber hearts.