Brad & Heather's Journal

Friday, July 28, 2006

New cat

Why is it so incredibly hard to make flight reservations anymore? I mean, it’s supposed to be easier now that it’s all technologically superior, but I end up spending hours of my life trying to save myself what ends up being about three bucks. And, of course it never crosses my mind that I could actually be doing something else with my time. My favorite trick is when one of the travel sites gives you a quote on a flight and in teeny tiny print at the bottom it tells you that you have to stay overnight in – let’s say Anchorage or Bangor (not that there’s anything wrong with either of those places… I’ve spent the night in both airports because of difficulties way too long to go into here) – BUT, it says… your flight is only going to cost you two jillion dollars rather than two jillion and six dollars. Sigh… I am old enough to remember when all you did was call up the airline or your travel agent and say “I want to go to San Francisco on April 10th and come back on the 14th and about three days later the tickets would arrive in the mail. Okay, the paperless tickets are cool. The only thing that freaks me out is the self-check in machine that knows my full name. (I know – but still it’s a little freaky to have it printed there in black and white.

So, tomorrow we are going to get a new cat. After all of the deaths in our family… two cats, three tadpoles, a fish… (all in one year – no… it wasn’t me) we decided it was time. We are going to Dallas to interview our cat. Well, I actually think he is going to interview us. They had to have three references and then call my vet. And, they called the references. That’s more than most employers I’ve ever had. It seems bogus though. I mean, who is going to list someone that is going to say something bad about them?

“Hello, I wanted to ask you a few questions about Heather Hepler.”
“Uh huh.”
“Well, she is interested in adopting a cat…”
“WHAT?!? Are you crazy? They have a pet cemetery in their back flowerbed. It has a new gravestone every week.

Well, something like that. Wish us luck. What if he doesn’t like us? That might mess with me for years.



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