I should be a better blogger. When I’m up in the middle of the night I really enjoy finding people’s blogs to read. And it’s even better if they are funny, smart, insightful. I like to think that now and then I’m any one of those things, but I realize my blog is totally lame.

What are the elements of a good blog? First and foremost for me as a reader, there’s the balance of self-understanding without self-absorption. That’s key. And being able to tell a story helps. Having a story to tell helps even more. Most of us don’t think we have stories to tell but we do.

What are blogs generally about? Just whatever is on people’s minds at the time of writing, I suppose. For me that would be: politics, how to finish a home remodeling, surviving my chronic upper respiratory tract infections, making art, and selling things on the internet. Oh and my goldfish who just won’t die.

This ties in with this week’s cartoon of the week so it’s fitting story to tell here. I’m currently going through a nightmare pet situation again.

Here’s the deal: we have this goldfish named Boomer that we got shortly after moving into this house three years ago. He has grown at least twice his original size. His old home was an Eclipse three gallon tank with filter and BioWheel, which is supposed to maintain a healthy bacterial balance in the tank. But he outgrew that. This fish has at least tripled in size. So we got him the six gallon version of the same tank. He’s thriving in that, now four times his original size. I even painted a custom backdrop to make him feel even more special. (If fish can feel special.) At five times his original size, he’s pretty happy. (You see where this fish story is going, eh?)

So then we have the perfectly good three gallon Eclipse tank free for a new occupant. We thought it would be fun to give to our friend Pat who could use a pet. After cleaning it out thoroughly, I filled it and added a fish from Chicago Aquarium. He died overnight. I asked them what it could have been and they said, “ammonia.” A no brainer apparently, but I didn’t get it. I had put ammonia lock in the water – how could it have happened overnight? Doesn’t ammonia need a while to build up? So I decided they were wrong, their fish was sickly.

I cleaned out the tank again and went to Petcare. Got a little orange goldfish who would later be named ‘Ade’ because I got her the day Adriana was killed on The Sopranos. After a few days in the tank, she started getting brown spots all over her. According to some pamphlet on goldfish care it’s hemorrhagic bacterial septicemia. Great. My fish is bleeding from the inside out. She didn’t eat for the first week we had her. I can’t imagine how she survived. No eating, no poop, just bleeding into her fins for a full week.

I decide the tank must be the problem and I put her in an old-fashioned biowheel-free goldfish bowl, exchanging 50% of the water every day. I threw away the Eclipse 3. She got a little better. She started eating. She was doing well. Believing her on the mend and thinking she deserved another chance at BioWheel living, I went out and got her an Eclipse Profile three gallon tank of her very own. I carefully set up the tank, let it run for an entire weekend so it would be all ready. I took no shortcuts. When we got home from our weekend away, I put her in the new tank and within 24 hours she starting dying again, swimming on her side, acting like the ammonia had gone to her head, divebombing the bottom of her tank.

All this time, Cindy will walk up to her perfectly healthy seven-times-his-original-size Boomer and feed him in his happy little tank, almost mocking my sickly, splotchy, now crazed little fish.

Ade is back in her old fashioned goldfish bowl now, back to 50% water changes every day. She’s not swimming on her side anymore, but she’s not eating again. And now I have an Eclipse Profile 3 drying out downstairs. Cindy actually verbalized the thought I wouldn’t let myself speak: I’d love to put another fish in there just to see what happens… I’m picturing tanks on every countertop with fish in various stages of demise. Goldfish hospice. I don’t think we’re zoned for that.