MARSUPIALS AND BEING THE DESERVING POOR

 

On Friday we replaced the front porch bulb which had burned out. The only kind left in my cupboard was a 150 watt halogen, and my nighttime patio has become bright as day. About an hour ago, I was riveted to see Puddy the Possum make another appearance. She climbed to the very top of the birdfeeder pole, balanced a minute on the decorative crossbar, then flipped herself backwards, head down, hanging by clenched little grey feet and her somewhat prehensile tail. She inched upside-down to the tray where we set out black sunflower seeds and cracked corn, crawling onto this with her front legs and finding a solid perch.

She is lit up like the Great Pyramid at Giza during tourist season, but does not seem to be fully aware of it. Twice people have walked by on the sidewalk, only two feet away from her, and she freezes as they stop to gape: She is very good at immobility. After they move on, she resumed breathing and munching.

I eventually called for the cats, to share, and that's when I discovered the door between here and the hall is shut, with the cats sequestered on the other side. This is the third time such an event has happened in the last few weeks, and I have been quite critical of negligent attendants. However, tonight after Debra left I looked down the hall at Scout playing, and she and Dinah were both in here after Debra's departure. So the door closing was done post-Debra, which means it was one of the cats doing the deed. I'd bet any amount of money on Scout. She is relentlessly curious and will not stop messing with anything that moves. She has now managed to lock herself and Dinah away from me for the night.

Fortunately, Dinah's room has a bowl of kibble, their waterer, and a litter box, so their needs will be met. I imagine Dinah will be royally frustrated before 9 a.m. rolls around again.

Ah, Puddy just left. Wild kingdom is over for the night.

In poor cripdom news, I got a packet this weekend from another social service agency that I failed to qualify for in the past but likely will now. I pulled out the form this morning and recognized it as the self-same 25-pager I filled out last week for recert of attendant care and three weeks ago for food stamps, even down to the mailing address. I called the agency in question and got the caseworker there whom I've worked with in the past. She verified it is basically the same form, and all the documentation I must include (another 25 pages) will be identical, but these agencies sharing an address cannot share my forms with each other.

So I spent two hours this afternoon re-entering all the same data and arranging for another set of copies of the latest documents they want, which Tammi will have to pick up and mail tomorrow at the cost of an attendant hour. Yep, the Republicans sure have saved a bundle with all this relentless paperwork and suspicious checking -- three times the number of personnel hours just to prove I don't have a secret trust fund. A new question on the forms this year demands to know if I have a burial plot or prepaid funeral: Would I have to cash that in to get aid? What an evil line of inquiry.