caudelac: (hang the stars)
Well, I'm moved.

Totally not up to running my D&D game today, not that that was terribly likely. I still have some cleaning to do back at the Apt in Durham, and to get my gardening stuffs. But,well, I live in Cary now, with [livejournal.com profile] shieldhaven, and that's a goodness. In spite of Mausollini, crying about how he's not allowed in the bedroom so we should come watch tv out there with him now, or something.

Dust to Dust writing and acquisition of bookshelves to-day. Also the acquisition of food.

Also, I cannot overestimate how attractive 'Haven looks in in his black LARPing, faire-stylez silks, particularly early in the morning, on a Sunday, when lazy is kind of a thing. Hee.
caudelac: (save the democracy!)
Super Cool is driving back from a really good D&D session with the radio on and they play "What's the Scenario" by A Tribe Called Quest, and your brain rolls back to the early 90's and you're just chill.

You're thinking about how much you like playing 4e Shaman, because you feel incredibly useful even when you can't roll for shit, like I couldn't tonight. And you're happy because you spent a good evening with people you like and with your awesome boyfriend, and also because you really love all of the characters in all of the games that you're playing, and you wish you had some sort of parallel timeline running right above or below the regular world that you could put all the gaming in. You in both realities would be vaguely aware of the other, but when you paused for a bit you could remember everything that had happened in whichever you were focusing on as a solid narrative. That way, you could do all the rest of the stuff you want and need to do, and play the metric ton of other games that you really want to play when they start, or the Other Games you want to start yourself.

Like right now, when you think about how you want to get together all of the pictures you've drawn of your various PCs and scan 'em, but you're so relieved and happy to be lying in a clean bed with clean sheets and no fleas, flies, foes or fums. And even better, it looks like Your Destructive Orange Nemesis has actually decided to use the litterbox while you were gone. Sure, you can tell because he decided to cover with things like your stuffed Mickey Mouse and an old 2009 planner, but you're actually too amused by the irony there to be upset. And happy that your place seems to have overcome the infestation of the doomed and the damned.

And that's good, it's really really good.

It's Super Cool.
caudelac: (wide awake.)
I r rabbit what got no sleepz.
Rabbit of Tosses and Turns--
Itchy Rabbit jumping at all noises.

Now is must be wukrtime.
Catz think bad idea.
Catz say,
"Can Rabbitz wukrs with no zzzzzs?
Should stay and petz. Mebbe zzzzzs come."

Rabbits say,
"iz not so great actshully. But--
We do what we must, because we can."

Goez nao.
caudelac: (*facedive*)
So the little bastards finally managed it. After nearly a year of reasonable safety, my cats managed to knock down tthe birdcage and, by all appearances, kill and eat Oscar-the-parakeet while I was away at the King's Gate Event.

Well, fuck.

Cleaning and Laundry were already the order of the evening, but now it seems that they are a bare necessity, due to all the frigging feathers.

And so it goes.
caudelac: (Default)
I have, spread on my bed:

--Jorge Luis Borges Selected Non-Fictions, upside down and open to an essay on cyclical time.
--Reading Borges in Buenos Aires,from [livejournal.com profile] yuki_onna's [livejournal.com profile] omikuji_project.
--A sketchbook, open to A Beginning.
--A black cat, sprawled upon said Beginning.
--pyjamas in piles
--a letter I should really send to [livejournal.com profile] unnaturale someday.
--myself, absently writing this ere she makes it up and to Rue Cler for Brunchfast.

Peace.
caudelac: (Konstantin)
Back in Ye Olde Carolina Norte after a trip that was really rather a wonderful time, in spite of the Creeping Crud of Unholy Doom, which hopefully delivered its climactic act last night and is now in the dénoument. Hopefully The combination of clean sheets, beef bullion, vicks cold medicine, orange juice and pineapple slices compel thee, chest congestion serves to aid in that direction. Alors.

First day back at work-- actually got some stuff done. Doing laundry and making friends with the couch the now, and allowing my brain to contemplate great expanses of nothing at all.

Watching Trainspotting now, to be followed I think by Cats. The Boys may well enjoy that, to make up for my prolonged absence.
caudelac: (tokyo SMASH!!!)
I have no desire to discuss the realative benefits of netflix vs. video stores vs. blockbuster et al, but only to be amused by some fine things that amused me as I sought something to watch tonight.

--flipping through my netflix queue, while a matter of concentration for me, is frustrating delight for Cromwell-Cat, who tries to catch each title on the screen as it passes by.

--it has a way of knowing what I want to watch and having it by chance! The last was Good Night and Good Luck, and tonight Shakespeare in Love, which was really the only thing I wanted to see.

There was another thing that amused me-- perhaps the possibility of movie marathons that defy all sense and reason, but it's escaped my mind the now. Probably destroyed by too many cheesy, cheesy tacos.
caudelac: (Bookish!)
Every sound simply echoes through this apartment building! I can hear the people upstairs dance and drop metal bowls in their kitchen, and the front door being right on the other side of the wall from my toes, I can hear people coming and going at all hours. I mind it far less than the cats do, or rather Maus, growling at the invisible strangers as he does.

I have spent the day in bed, except to make tea and eat the frozen edamame dumplings I got from Trader Joe's last night, and more bullion. I feel a little better for this. I have slept, and read, and installed, and deleted, and edited, and written a little, even. I have not properly made anything, though I have wanted to. It always seems that I am missing some vital thing, when I start a new project.

I hope that I will feel better tomorrow. I am a little less warm now than this afternoon.

But now Maussolini has decided to curl himself up on my chest, tuck his head under my chin, and knead my skin through my t-shirt with his claws, so perhaps I ought to stop typing for a while.
caudelac: (Phineas)
So, thanks to the awesomeness of Co-Worker-With-truck (AKA Ian), I have fulfilled the Cromwell-Cat's greatest wish, and brought his old friend the Couch From Queen Street into the apartment. It is very large, and a sagey green, and comfortable and sturdy, unlike my little red velvet loveseat-- I have slept on it and can vouch, but the main of people are kind of afraid to sit on it. Alors.

Two kinds of iced tea are chillin' in the fridge.

I am very pleased with to-day.
caudelac: (hang the stars)
Coming to you live from some neighbor's stolen wireless connexion, the Rabbit sits dizzily in her newfound burrow and rat-a-tats out the news. About halfway through the small stuff (and it's mostly small stuff), and the cats are finding all the good hiding places in their new abode. Maussolini flanks me like a sentinel and growls at the sounds of Gregson St, as was his wont when we lived on that selfsame street before. Now we're a little further North of our old locale, and that's okay. Washer/Dryer sets make up for much.

Now to move the kitchen things, and oh yes-- eat. Then Wukr.

Viddy Appropriate Bunny:





Love to all of you out there, and here.
caudelac: (Lor' Protector!)
When my orangecat boy, Cromwell, saunters into [livejournal.com profile] vaukosigan's room and uses the large British flag there as a litter box.

(btw-- said [livejournal.com profile] vaukosigan shall, for simplicity's sake, be hitherto referred to as the Duke.)

Mais non-- three cheers for Irony!
caudelac: (ded of vibrato)
So.

Yesterday = Jackhammers in the street in the front of the house. Most of our street-- which is a fair-large, majour street, mind-- was blocked due to the damage of our sewer pipes.

This is so fail, it is win.

The night before this-- for we must always go backwards in time, of course-- a ruckus of felines below the corn snake's cage seemed a touch more suspicious than usual. I, though neither a swifter nor more enthusiastic hunter than any of the cats, emerged from bed to investigate. Upon catching a glimpse of the long, yellow object of their attention, I darted slap-quick over and managed to snag from under their playing paws our Lost and lamented King Snake, Fab, who is now quite a bit longer and also thicker around. He coiled about my hand demurely, and I presented him in triumph to [livejournal.com profile] vaukosigan, who was delighted.

I suppose that the mice all ran out. Or perhaps there was too much squabbling over the tasty, tasty heads.
caudelac: (monstrosity)
We have been having quite an odyssey with snakes over the past several months.

First was the ball python who came sick from Petsmart, and died a month later. Then Fab the king snake, who made it out of his cage and whom we couldn't find at all. Then another ball python, Wilksey, who wouldn't eat and had to go back to the rescue from whence he came. Now we've got Ash, a black and white corn snake, who is doing quite well so far. But that's actually a digression.

About a week after Fab disappeared, we started seeing mice, scurrying across the floor, much to the delight of our felines. They seemed to be coming from under the stove, and even when they were put outside, would return by the next day. Any mouse who is willing to brave the house of four cats, clearly, they have something else to be terribly a'feared of.

So it seems that Fab, in the way that King Snakes do, made his new home under the stove and thus cleared all the mice out of their lair and into the house-- except for those he's doubtless eaten. Which means that periodically, we find the little decapitated critters lying about, after the cats have wearied of toying with them. Apparently, they like to claim the head.

It's probably some macho cat thing.
caudelac: (*hugs*)
KAIN IS HOME!

Teh Failcat has been out having adventures in realcat, and was found by a neighbour and now is home and being bathed by [livejournal.com profile] vaukosigan, as all her white patches are now greyish-brownish-black patches.

ZOMG!RELIEF!ZOMG.
caudelac: (complain!)
So we've been having... shall we say, plumbing issues since before x-mas, largely on the order of the drains not properly draining, and backing up into things like the bathtub and the dishwasher. We'd been told by the handyman-plumber-guy that there was a clog going out to the street from leaves and dirt getting into the access outside, which for some reason had no cap. Fine, he did something, and the bathroom (closer to the street) was draining ok, though not the kitchen. So we've been on paper plates and other disposables for a bit, as we can't really wash anything dish-wise.

The handyman was supposed to come back the monday after x-mas and didn't, and apparently didn't have the tools to do the job right anyway. The landlady had been trying to get ahold of his boss, and found out yesterday that she'd have to get someone else, as the boss knew this but didn't think it worth passing on. Ok.

So come to yesterday, and the Other Handyman saying that it looked like any and all sewage from the house was basically spewing onto the lawn. So the landlady had a plumber come out. You know the pvp access that had gotten clogged, mentioned before? Apparently, this was the only street-piping made of pvp-- the rest was ancient clay, which was now completely collapsed.

JOY.

I was not home for the adventures of sewage spewing out of the tub and toilet and flooding-- in the course of which, and the plumber going in and out, Kain-the-Failcat managed to escape, and has apparently been wandering the neighborhood all night. [livejournal.com profile] vaukosigan put in a report with the shelter and is going to put up fliers and such, but YEAH.

And to top it all off, she comes home from the shelter, and there's a crew out tearing up the yard. Which is kind-of okay-- fixing the problem is good. But some advance notice would have been nice, of when and such. And they had stuff plugged in inside, and had the back door PROPPED OPEN, and we have 3 other cats-- fortunately, none of whom had gotten out, but YEAH.

LAME.

Hopefully, we will find teh kitteh. I worry about her, as she is very small, and yes.

Also, I'd like to be able to take a bath someday, or run the dishwasher. But hopefully this will be fixed today.

Coz hey, things could always be worse.
caudelac: (Default)
So we're less one parakeet after some fuzzy thing who shall remain FAILCAT (also known as Kain) managed to get part of the roof off of the birdcage the other day. Oscar was smart enough to stay put. I rescued Dominic when i got home, though he was clearly exhausted.

of Bosie, all that was left was a handful of feathers and part of a wing.

I am sure there is something ironic about all this. Pretty sure it was Kain who got him, and not Cromwell, but anything is possible.

Scrap Exchange event today, then packing. God do I want more sleep.

Also-- Cromwell cat is the most easily entertained thing I have ever seen. "Oh look! AIR! FUNTIMES FOR ALL!!! OMG, the GROUND! BEST TOY EVER!"
caudelac: (cannondrag)
So the flooding being a bad thing, and there having been a lovely one on the ABCDurham listserv, it looks like the Other and I shall be moving at the end of the month. Assuming no one else snatches it out from under us. Deposit for lady on Friday. Serious moving last weekend of month, I think.

I also think we just like to torture our cats a lot, honestly.
caudelac: (*hugs*)
Meet Failcat.





Failcat is between names right now, and has a genetic fail. Failcat is a winnar of the Epileptic Hermaphrodite sweepstakes too! What has it won?

Home-living, with us and the other Monsters. And though it's obvious-- yeah, kind of a mindfuck, ain't it? I mean... when you see it, you just might shit bricks.

There really needs to be the motivational poster set-- Never has so much Fail had so much Win.

Much like July 20th.
caudelac: (smooch.)
So there was one more surprise for a rabbit on her birthday.

This was the surprise:



Its name is Cromwell, Ollie C. Lor' Protectah. His spiritual lolcat is Longcat. Ph34r him.

The water got all cleaned up, a fantastic brunch was had at Rue Cler, and a marvelous dinner at Fishmongers. My Other is magnificent.

I send many good thoughts and job karma to [livejournal.com profile] stauffenberg, who is getting the excellent second glances and interviewthings and yes.

Also, if you look carefully in the above picture, you can see the ROCK BAND. I am far too happy about the existence of this thing. But I got 100% on vocals for Limelight by Rush, my first try. Geek is love.
caudelac: (wistful)
today I took the vincentcat to be put to sleep. He was very old, and couldn't get around very well, and was throwing up even the water he drank.

Like the Other said, it was belike the right thing to do.

But i don't wanna think for the rest of time now.

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