Stacy Horn

My cable bill was higher this month. When I called about it I learned it was going to go up even more next month, and they were not offering to do anything about it! They were completely uninterested in keeping me as a customer. Fine. I’m back to researching cutting the cord. I’m already exhausted after researching this for an hour, and I’m sure they’re counting on people like me giving up. But I’m motivated now. I’m going to take a break and come back to it.

This morning, as usual, I was prisoner to the sleeping cats. Normally I’m okay with this, but this time Bleeck was parked on my computer. I couldn’t work, or watch tv or read on my computer. The book I’m reading (Patient H.M) was way way way over on the coffee table and unreachable. All I could do was just sit here. So, I took pictures of them imprisoning me!

Today is a much better day. (Which means something terrible is about to happen. Wait, now I’m just tempting fate. I didn’t mean it, fate!) But Finney bounced back rather quickly and has resumed his normal habits and is eating well. I am now free to enjoy the Loser’s Lounge tonight. I also went out into the snow yesterday to get Finney more crappy food that he was managing to eat, and got to enjoy a little bit of a real and decent snowstorm.

It was pretty quiet, not a lot of people out and about. (More below.)

I always feel for the dog walkers. And the dogs. But maybe the dogs are fine? I just think their feet must be cold, how could they not be?

This was taken from my roof, looking down into one of the courtyards below.

Finney can’t catch a break. Something in his mouth was bothering him, and I was hoping it was a dental issue, but of course it’s a tumor. AND, he has dental issues. I asked them to remove as much of the mass as possible while they were removing a piece for a biopsy, because I don’t plan to go through any kind of major surgery for this. This was just to buy him a little more time and comfort. They also cleaned his teeth and extracted a couple that were in bad shape. That too, was just to give him a little more comfort for whatever time he has left.

He’s miserable now though, and all he does is sleep. New York City is getting a fantastic snowstorm, and normally I’d be in a great mood about that, and heading out to play, but I’m staying in. I’m going to miss a choir party tonight as well, but I suspect a lot of people won’t make it due to this storm. Mice and dead mouse update below.

Quick backstory: I have mice, and what smelled like a dead mouse started a few weeks ago. On Thursday, one of the landlord’s guys pulled out the kitchen cabinet where the smell was strongest, removed a piece of sub-flooring, and we looked underneath. No dead mouse, but we could also pinpoint exactly where the smell was concentrated: the pipe pictured below. It didn’t smell like gas though, and he had a device to detect leaks and it didn’t show a leak. I also know what a gas leak smells like and this was different.

I washed down the pipes and the floor, then we cleared out the debris under the floor in that area, and it was a lot better. That was about six days ago. Even though it’s a lot better, I can still smell it. I’m not sure if that is a lingering scent and I should give it time or what.

In response to the very anti-American travel ban, MOMA is featuring artists from the banned countries. My favorite was a piece from Marcos Grigorian. But the crowds were biggest for, as always, Starry Night (see below). I love this painting too though, I’m not judging.

I wonder if I’ve ever posted about my Van Gogh revelation. Have you ever experienced an anxiety attack? When I was in my twenties I went through a period of having them. If you’ve never experienced them, let me tell you they are very seriously un-fun. I was in a doctor’s office, waiting to see him about getting a prescription for anxiety, when I looked up and saw a print of one of Van Gogh’s sunflower paintings on the wall. ‘THAT’S IT!’ I screamed (internally, of course). That is exactly what the world looks when you’re in the midst of an anxiety attack. Van Gogh’s brush stroke exactly captures the wavering, pulsating appearance of the world in those high-stress minutes. It had an immediate calming effect on me. To see my experience depicted right there, on the wall, and also transformed into a thing of beauty. I no longer felt so scared and alone. It was a kind of validation. Me and Van Gogh.

To this day I am positive that in addition to whatever he was suffering from, Van Gogh also endured anxiety attacks.

A few doors down from MOMA. What was it all for, I wonder? Not because of the banned countries artists, I hope.

I saw this guy struggling with this cart holding the biggest mountain of cans I’ve ever seen. Why is there not a job out there for someone willing to work so hard and so diligently?