IM IN UR HEAD, MESSING WIV IT

Our usual vet scoffed at the idea of girlie hormones for Padge when I dropped him off (in the pink cat box we use for individual trips, as opposed to the big blue double cat box) to have his head siphoned.

I left him for the day, and tried not to think about it.

When we went back to pick him up, the vet was contrite. He'd shaved Padge's forehead, but kindly left him a ridge of eyebrow, which gives him a slightly Neanderthal look. He hasn't got a drain, just a very large open weeping wound.

'See these white marks all over his head?' the vet said. 'They're masses of ancient fighting scars, the ones that didn't get infected. I checked all over his body, and they're everywhere, lots of tiny puncture and scratch marks. Do you still want the hormones?'

Yes, indeed-y do, thank you very much!

I decided not to put a photo up, because a cat with a huge weeping sore on his forehead is not a pretty sight. And he's too cranky to sit still and let me take a photo, because he wants. to. be. outside. NOW.

It's sad. He was such a gloriously beautiful cat, and now he looks like a retired boxer. He's still lovely, just a bit battered. All he needs is a bitten-off ear and he'll have the complete set. Let's hope the eunuch pills work.



Today when I got to work, I turned on the computer as usual, and tried to boot up Firefox. But it wouldn't work. It tried to tell me that it was already up, thank you very much. So I rang my IT man, Simon, who is pretty jolly and is the only person in the vicinity who has seen me wearing medieval clothes and hanging out with the excellent For Battlers near Yass. He has forgiven me for hanging out with the Evil Sydney Lemmings when I could have been hanging with my homies.

Anyhoo. I was talking to Simon on the phone about the Firefox problem, when he said 'hang on, I'll just work my magic. Watch this.' Watch what? I thought, and kept working on the email I was composing (about running a Book Clinic. More on this later). Then my mouse arrow started moving of its own accord, and folders started opening and closing. I couldn't help it; I gave a little gasp and said 'Simon! Is that you?'

He laughed, and said, 'sorry, I should have warned you properly. Some people find this really disturbing.'

I did find it really disturbing. Intellectually I could grasp that my uni computer is on a network, that it's not my exclusive territory, that it makes sense for the IT guys to be able to fix my problems without having to come all the way over to my office...

But it was ICKY. It made me realise that I use the screen like an extension of my brain, to help me organise my thoughts and my day, and having someone moving around in there outside of my control was like having a stranger lurking in my brain. I found it extremely invasive, and it sort of made me feel violated in a small sense. I wasn't offended, because the intellectual part of me won over, but it was certainly a shock.

Simon was experienced enough to recognise my reaction (apparently there are two common reactions: repulsion and amusement) and was nice enough to teach me how to know when he or anyone else is in my head on my screen. And he promised to warn me each time he does it, which I assured him he didn't really have to do, but he's obviously an ethical ITer, and I like him for it. Even if he's on the dark side (he hates Macs, loves PCs).

He's off-screen now, but I can't shake that feeling of somebody watching me...






PS: Ooh! Forgot to mention that the glich in Firefox was a funny little file buried in the bowels of my applications support, and it's name was PARENTLOCK. Oh, how we roared.