Wow. I was a basket case. I was certainly surprised at the depth of my Gmail addiction. I was totally lost without it. It is where all the comments for this blog go through and the main point of contact for me.
I was very pissed off about it and was even told by my brother Brian, that that was too much information despite spelling it as ‘pist’ on Facebook.Maybe I should have written psst. It was supposed to have taken 24 hours to access it again.
My sister sent me an email to the Gmail account, asking if I was still having problems with Gmail. If I was, I wouldn’t have gotten that email.
Around 10:00 this morning I was able to regain access. In February Rand told me that my Yahoo mail was compromised and to change my passwords. The same password I was using for years had to be change and old habits do die hard.
I think mis-entered the password a couple of times effectively getting locked out. And Gmail is tough with passwords. When did you start using Gmail? Were you sent an invite for Gmail? Who sent it to you? Give 5 email addresses that you email often. Things like that.
It wasn’t the 24 hour lock out I anticipated and was quite happy to be back in the thick of it. My behavior was a bit on the ridiculous sided.
I was having a slight meltdown when there is Bill dealing with his mother’s Alzheimer’s which is definitely a much bigger issue. Bill was quite supportive throughout the meltdown. Perhaps it was a welcome distraction to his problems.
Bill knew it wasn’t the end of the world. I didn’t have a clue.
Work was quiet and easy enough for me to leave around 2:30 this afternoon. My people were out and most of the other occupants in the office were out due to the holiday where the angel of death flies over peoples houses and kills the first born son, Passover.
I always thought that was cool when growing up, even though I didn’t want my brother Frank to die. I wondered if people actually painted their doorway with lamb’s blood like in the bible. I was disappointed to find it not to be.
10 years ago I lost one of my best friends ever, my cat Zed. I first got Zed in 1984 from the ASPCA. One night while living in my first apartment at 201 Madison, I was making a mix tape.
I had my records spread out, a glass of soda positioned nearby when I saw a mouse. Up went my knee spilling soda all over me and the records and everything else in the room.
I called up my friend Martha Keavney who had a cat named Ivan and asked if I could borrow him for the evening. She brought Ivan over and the cat cried and caterwauled all night not giving me much sleep and probably kept the mice awake too.
The next day I realized that I needed my own cat. I never had a cat before and never considered myself to be a cat person. I found time in between driving from Saddle Brook NJ to 757 Third Avenue in Manhattan to head up to the ASPCA.
I found an older orange and white cat that seemed ok and filled out the paperwork. When it came time for me to get the orange and white cat, the cat spit and hissed, It seemed like the cat from hell.
Directly below that cat was another cat. A black paw reached out and grabbed my pant leg. I looked down and the cat looked up and meowed. We connected.
I asked if I could change my mind and the woman who was helping me grumbled and tried to dissuade me by saying there was more paperwork. I told her that I didn’t care I was taking this little guy.
Obviously we hit it off and became good pals. It wasn’t easy raising a cat since I never had one before. But Zed loved me and I loved him.
For fifteen years Zed was by my side, in various apartments that I lived, even moving up to Lodi for a few months after my mother died. I had to keep Zed in the basement since my father loathed cats.
Poor Zed, stuck in the basement. He spent a lot of time on the cellar stairs trying to get to where the people were on the other sde of the cellar door.
My father swore that Zed was trying to kill him since Zed wouldn’t move when my father went down the stairs to do laundry.
Who knows? Maybe Zed was trying to kill him.
After a few weeks of that, my father had Zed banished to the backyard which was tough since Zed only had limited experience with the outside world and there was also a rabid raccoon scare at that time.
But my father didn’t care. He hated cats. Eventually I moved out of Lodi after 3 months and moved to Weehawken where Zed was welcomed and loved by my roommate William. It was a good run for Zed from 1991 to 1999.
Lot’s of room to roam and also lot’s of fun to be had. Zed started to get ill in March of 1999, around the same time I had gotten my first computer from Harpy. I do think deep down that Zed thought he was going to be replaced by a computer but then again he was 15 years old and starting to have seizures.
It was sad to see him deteriorating. One night in April, I knew he was going fast and I held him in my arms as he passed away. I was devastated and couldn’t believe it even though my cat died in my arms and was now in a shoe box.
I had to ask William to check to see if Zed was dead since I was in such a state of denial. William confirmed what I tried to deny. The next morning I was in the backyard digging Zed’s grave.
I was working at Arista Records at the time and I couldn’t get anything done. All I could do was cry. Suzanne Savage my boss was most sympathetic, and allowed me to leave early. I went back home and sat in the backyard. I had a Guinness and poured one out for my homey.
Then I went inside and cried making guttural sounds that I had never heard before. I could never get another cat, or a dog since I couldn’t go through that again.
If I had a cat or dog that died the day after I died, that would be fine. But I couldn’t go through that heartbreak again.
I had an Irish wake a few days later, Rand and Lisa, Martha and a few other friends stopping by for drinks and reminiscing. I moved on soon after that and moved from Weehawken a few years later. Still, occasionally I can feel Zed’s presence when I sometimes lie in bed drifting off to sleep.
I swear I can feel his presence, Zed curling up behind my bended knees as I lay on my side. It’s always a good feeling. He’s out in the universe somewhere probably, waiting for me.
I still miss him so very much.
These sketches were done by my friend Doug Maxson who cat sat for me back in the day.
This was done by Denise Donnell