Ice Cold

I've taken to eating ice.

Copious amounts of ice.

Enough ice that our fridge is constantly set to Quick Ice. Two reasons for that really; one, I prefer the ice that is flash frozen as it contains more air, reaching the "right" consistency much more quickly than the non-flash frozen ice, and two? We run out of ice, otherwise.

Not a good plan, I've been informed, if (when) we run out of ice.

Turns out, other folks that live here enjoy ice in their drinks; however, they do not...say...enjoy the cube the same way I do. Currently, my water glass is indeed water, simply frozenish, sporting a long handled spoon, as for some odd reason, the littlier icy bits fall to the bottom underneath the Not Ready For Consumption ice.

Some people I won't name, (Jonathan) labeled my affection for The Cube as obsessive, or, (gasp) an addiction.

Seriously.

Who becomes addicted to ice? No. One. Do we, the anemic, enjoy the ice? Yes. Is it better than the other option anemic folks choose? Since they eat dirt, I'm going with a resounding yes. I could totally stop at any time....I simply don't want to. It's also a free, both financially and calorically snack, one I may indulge in whenever the mood strikes. This proves especially helpful when a houseful of halloween candy decorates nearly every bowl, tray, or oversized plastic bag on the table by the door.

See? Pass on the Snickers; grab a glass of ice. Should the ice be stuck together? Find a grapefruit spoon...part spoon, part ice pick. Fabulous!!!

I'm the first person to tell the kids not to eat ice; it's horrendous for your teeth, snapping the irreplaceable enamel right off their teeth. Or how they could choke on a not chewed bit. Knowing how vain I am about my teeth, Jonathan (and others) find this ..... concerning.

More in the addictive/obsessive category.

I disagree.

I think the whole thing harkens back to spending a year on a liquid diet, followed by another near year on another weird medically necessary diet, neither of which had any crunch. I'm not obsessed.

I'm making up for lost time.

Which is great, because I need to go.

I'm out of ice.

Answer A

Living beings in my house tend to fall into two distinct categories:

A. Despite careful tending, they die.

B. Despite total lack of care and attention, they live on,

I am convinced, to annoy me senseless.

The only person who seems to care that the (unwanted...on my part at least) guinea pigs in the basement have made such a mess, have spent quite a bit of time (more than I care to admit) without a serious cage cleaning, we are attracting mice, is me.

Mostly, I am sure, from Lois' side of the condo wall. I suppose however, that once they penetrate the hallowed halls of my home, I should cease to care from whence they came.

Truth be told, I'm not a huge, shall we say, fan, of these idiot animals, since in my book, pigs live outdoors, eat outdoors, poop outdoors, right before they turn into some lovely bacon. These pigs? Shit in the house. Sigh. While I'd like, in the most nebulous way, for them to cease to exist, I'd rather not be the one to find the bodies, or, have to break it to the kids, they are not taking a "long nap", or, hibernating for the winter.

Thus.

I looked online, to find the best (read: easiest) way to clean a piggie's cage (without actually touching anything) only to find that first, I'd have to touch everything. I'm pretty sure that's when the gagging began. Either way, I'd need to move piggies out of their habitat (I don't really want them getting too accustomed to the idea of this being "a home") then, touch all their unwanted bedding, prior to filling water, food pellets, raw veggies, etc.

I'm awesome at cutting up their veggies. I'm even pretty darn talented at delivering them, when needed. Mostly. So I forget some days. I'm not the only one who does, so I am free to pass along that blame. Perhaps, onto someone who actually claims ownership of these guys. I'm guessing they are guys, a, because they lady at the pet store told J they were guys, and b, I currently am unclear on the anatomical differences between the two. So far, whether they are gay pigs or lesbian pigs, they have not (thankfully) reproduced.

Gloves, clearly, were a must; the bedding that smells lightly of lavender a huge bonus, as these aromatic pests - I mean - pets, are not stunning the world as the latest perfume to be carried by Estee' Lauder. The online articles (yes, I read more than one - want to make sure I'm doing this correctly, lest I be the cause of their demise) gave me a handful by handful accounting of my upcoming laborious process, along with the list of "acceptable" vegetable matter they should have daily. A cup of it, per pig.

I read the list. (far easier than beginning the cleaning of The Cage)

Now, keep in mind, our pigs diet consists mostly of raw veggie table scraps, along with the cheapest carrots one may find, along with a steady stream of vit C rich spinach, and apples, cut with cores and seeds altogether.

The list suggests (rather highly, I gathered, since it listed it twice) staying away from feeding them a diet too rich in those foods; they should be given in pretty consistent moderation. Stay away from apples seeds, cherry or apricot and peach pits: all contain arsenic.

Not here.

The fine print, after the discreet star above the veggies listed, warns against kidney failure, too much vit A making them dreadfully ill, just prior to killing them.

I read this, complete disbelief dancing across my face, as this proved one thing, and one thing only: despite my best, well-intenioned feeding of these guys, I've been unintentionally poisoning them. We have been doing this for going on two years.

Leads me to the only possible conclusion: no matter what I do.....

They. Will. NEVER. Die.

Why is choice A never the right answer?!