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breeden
ursulav

Three Small Annoyances and Two Small Joys

Annoyance #1 -- discovering a dead cockroach-like-beastie in the bathroom. (North Carolina is home to a number of things that look like cockroaches, and some--the wood cockroach in particular--doesn't want to be in the house and is alarmed to find itself there. I have no idea what this was, beyond dead.)

Annoyance #2 -- the kitchen faucet looks like it's starting to leak again. Maintenance has been out to fix it three times, and every time, within a few days, it starts up again. C'mon, people, there's a drought on! I shall watch it like a hawk.

Annoyance #3 -- Last night, just as I was finishing off "God of War" and in the climatic final battle scene, Ben decided he wasn't getting enough love and climbed up me. "Arrgh!" I said, trying to see over him, controller waving wildly. He took this as a sign that I wanted a hug, and climbed up my shoulder, purring madly. Along the way, one foot went down my cleavage, sought traction, and left me with a long scratch hugging the topography of the left breast. "Arrrrrgh!" I said again. I look as if I narrowly avoided a mastectomy by a particularly inept surgeon, but on the bright side, I did kick Ares' ass.

and to balance those out:

Small Joy #1 -- Arrived at postal place ten minutes after they closed, ran into the owner leaving, who opened the shop back up for me and took my mail. *sniffle* I feel da love!

Small Joy #2 -- The only effective odor neutralizer for cat boxes that I've ever found is nowhere to be found in Raleigh. But they can be ordered on Amazon! O frabjous day! I'd buy a case if I had anywhere to put it.

Okay, okay, by popular demand, it's the Air Sponge.   Be warned, it's NOT odorless--it has a peculiar industrial cleaning smell, which some people may find offputting--but it beats the hell outta cat box smell. I mean, I scoop the litterbox multiple times a day, and still...

breeden
ursulav

Public Service Announcement

Dear men in general,

I can handle that we went on a date and you're diabetic and forgot your insulin and thus stared at your food like a starving vulture for twenty minutes without eating it. These things happen. I could make a list of the things I've forgotten in life, but then I'd forget where I put it. Not a big deal. I went to lunch with an agoraphobic dominatrix last week and spent half the meal waiting for her to climb under the table, and this did not faze me in the slightest. This is a normal experience for me. I will make remarkable allowances for people's foibles, and I will do it calmly and without thinking it weird. It's all part of the service.*

Nor do I mind that you were fifteen minutes late. You had a good excuse, and I've been there myself.

Likewise, it is an enlightened era, and I am not shocked and appalled to pay for my own dinner.

And yes, if you want to talk the entire evening about a stone wall you're building--well, I have a broad and eclectic sense of what constitutes acceptable dinner conversation, and I am willing to be fascinated by all kinds of things. I have personally encouraged a vet to do twenty minutes on "Stuff I pulled out of a dead cow last week." I find many things riveting, potentially including masonry. I will ask questions about mortar and the shapes of stone. I once helped construct a drystone wall in my youth, and while I have not done so recently, I retain enough to ask reasonably intelligent questions.

But fer cryin' out loud, give me something to work with! Answer the questions! If you must rhapsodize about stone (and my stepfather is a sculptor, so I understand this urge completely) be prepared to expand on it! Do not simply brood about the time you have lost on your wall in recent days. Hello! Hot chick asking about stone!? Work with me here, buddy!

*sigh*

This has been a public service announcement. (Offered only because there is virtually no chance that the party who really needs it will ever find it. I generally do not blog such matters, as y'all will have noticed, but every now and then...)


*Upgrade to the Premium Friendship Service, and not only will I cater to your neuroses, I'll help you bury bodies! At Platinum Level, I'll take a bullet for you, assuming that I am not distracted by an interesting bird at a critical moment.