Some of the things my mother said to me on the phone keep crossing my mind in a disembodied kind of way. You can always tell when my mother is ready to be committed - she is overwhelmed with guilt, and she preaches that money isn't important. When she's sane, she usually can't stop talking about the supreme importance of money and how guilty everyone else should be feeling.
Towards the end of the conversation, Mum kept remembering the cat I owned when I was twelve. Cratty was run over one night, and a passing pizza delivery man brought her to our door while I was watching It on the television. She was barely alive, wheezing and coughing up blood. I cried and begged Mum to take her to the vet, but she refused, knowing that Cratty would not survive, and not wanting to pay the fee to have her put down. So she packed me off to bed and drowned Cratty with her bare hands in the laundry tub.
It shook her up much more than she thought it would. And now, with her mind in pieces, she has latched onto the event as one more reason to feel guilty. She begged me for forgiveness, and I bewilderedly told her that she had it, but she wouldn't stop weeping.
In the midst of everything, I forgot to post my final sociology assignment. So it looks like I'll be getting zero for that, thanks to the lateness policy. Terrific. I'll be lucky if I get a C for the course.
- Oh shit. The music industry is to extend its copyright war by taking legal action against websites offering unlicensed song scores.