caudelac: (fuck the necessary.)
Returned to the Apartment, the Maus-cat in tow (a million thanks to [livejournal.com profile] aetatis for watching him!), for the first time since last Thursday. Am very pleased by the presence of a non-mouldy wall, and by the lack of holes in the ceiling, as well as the other miscellaneous repairs. It is good, that the place where all my stuff is is not an unlivable hell-hole so much anymore.

Not that I expect I'll spend any more time there than I have, I will like that the time I spend there will not be appalling.

And yet another event this weekend-- KG's Penultimate event. I'm excited. I have Unfinished Business.

I also have a car to take to the body shop to-day. Probably something I should have done ages ago, but...

well, but. Now it is All Necessary And Stuff.

The way stuff is, sometimes.
caudelac: (wide awake.)
Maybe I'll get to go for drinking and trivia tonight, and maybe not. Maybe I'll be stuck here waiting for maitenence guys to figure out what the hell goes on with my wall and ceiling, so that they can clean the mold off of the former and fix the hole in the latter. Which at the moment, has a nasty piecce of plywood over it. Yay.

Maybe I'll just stay here and make up random military engagements for fun and profit and yeah. After all, I've got wine here.
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: (*facepalm*)
Oh In Nomine sourcebook, you have served me well. Your abilities as a fly-swatter, assisting me in destroying the unholy hordes of ginormous green-black bastards invading my sanctum this previous eve has earned you great renown within my realm-- as such, I do solemnly swear that I shall devote at least a portion of my day to reading your rules, instead of just bashing you against the insidious plagues of horrible insects like a blaster in Galaga.

It is the least I can do.
caudelac: (wistful)
This is a signal-thing. Whereby I am saying that I have not dropped off of the face of the earth,
That they seem to have mostly-fixed the leak in my ceiling,
That work is going reasonably well (though adjusting to perma 10-hour days 4 days a week is slow. Half-day on Fridays helps),
And that I am not sure what to talk about, when I am staring into this box. It's as though there is all too much, and then nothing at all.

What am I doing? What aren't I doing! I am going to ATL this weekend for a game, and playing in four 4e D&D games here in Durham, and they are all unbelievably awesome. I am playing, in no particular order:

A 10th level Revenant Asassin in [livejournal.com profile] shieldhaven's game.
A 4th level Aasimar Psion in Planescape,
A 4th level Tiefling Artificer in Eberron,
And a 4th level Wilden Shaman in Chessenta.

I have come to really, /really/ love 4e D&D. I have probably babbled some about how much, but it bears repeating. The game I am playing this weekend is Arcana Evolved, which is fun in its own way-- largely because I am playing a 10th level Magister with an ungodly high INT, which means that the PH is pretty much my spellbook, and I do unholy buckets of damage. UNHOLY. BUCKETS. OF DAMAGE.

Anyway, I have been painting minis and working on other projects and collecting dunnys and seeing really awesome theatre movies and generally keeping myself occupied.

I have many opinions on various topics. If you ask me for some, I might even give them to you.
caudelac: (*facepalm*)
I have moved a lot, over the past 10 years. The longest I have lived in any place was about two and a half. That's a lot of residences... 8, actually, if you don't count the 6 months that I technically was renting Lancaster, but effectively living on Hale with my GF at the time. It's frustrating and exhausting, and gives me cardboard allergies. I don't like it.

So what I'm saying is that I don't want to move again. Not out of necessity, anyway, and not to anyplace where I'm just going to wind up moving again soon after for one reason or another, most likely that I settled for whatever I could find quickly that was cheap. I have been delighted by the whole job thing because it means that I don't /have/ to move for financial reasons, among other things. But if these people won't fix my ceiling, when the rain has resulted in streams of water down my wall and puddles on my floor, then I will have to look for somewhere else. And I seriously, desperately, do not want to. I like this nice, inexpensive place what has washer and dryer and is in my favorite neighborhood in all of Durham, perhaps the triangle. If I move from here, I don't want it to be because of a burning throat and soggy cats and mold, but because I am, in fact, choosing to move somewhere better and more awesome in good ways. Just sayin.

Thanks for your time.

~R.
caudelac: (*facepalm*)
So I get home today after the Shards of Orn larp to find that part of my bedroom ceiling has caved in-- the part near the bathroom door. So there's a bunch of stucco all over a basket of stuffed animals and a pile books, and the pervasive smell of damp wood and plaster.

...Awesome.

Fortunately, this is why the good lord invented beer & cider in bottles, and also gave me two good hands.
caudelac: (doing it rong)
I really must needs get a cage-mate for the Oscar-bird, as he has taken to singing at the washing machine as it runs.

Yeeeeeeeeeah.
caudelac: (ded of vibrato)
I had this stuck in my head all evening, and while it wasn't exactly the choice I would have made for drowning out my upstairs neighbors' rather loud and exuberant sex (though I can't blame them too much-- it is fekking freezing), since you lovely people can't hear /that/, I shall share with you the awesomeness that is Miriam Makeba and Paul Simon singing Under African Skies, from Graceland: The African concert.





Now, I need suggestions for what to blast at top volume next time the Upstairs Gent sets in with his most unfortunate grunty baritone.

I also need to sleep. Fortunately, so it seems do they.
caudelac: (Konstantin)
Several hours, four filled tires and one collapsed bathroom ceiling later, verily the Rabbit returns to her proper state and curls up under sheets and cats, wistful, mind full of bits and pieces and the necessity of calling the landlords tomorrow and giving 'em whatfor.
caudelac: (*facepalm*)
Okay, upstairs people-- after all that beautiful lovemaking, if you're going to START FIGHTING AGAIN, I'm gonna knock some heads together.

Don't make me come up there.

no love,
Rabbit.

P.S. Wow, do I own a lot of geeky-ass t-shirts.
caudelac: (bliss.)
Things are all moved in. Roll of rockstars increased by an Alex, as Eric is and has been a rockstar for some time. Still a lot of unpacking to do.

I have had the most marvellous day with the parents (and evening with the dad coming out drinking with the co-worker awesomepeoples), and now I finally sleep in my own bed, pas a pile of matresses, pas the air mattress (though I were greatful for the loan thereof).

Oy, sleep.
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: (eep ack and other such.)
As I was taking the empty cardboard boxes out to recycle, I forgot that the cinnamon had come open and spilled all over the inside of one of them. Naturally, the one with the large, rectangular gap in the bottom.

I am now utterly covered in cinnamon, as is my kitchen.

Well, it smells nice, at least.

(Also, anyone who listens to WUNC happen to catch Back Porch Music last night around 9:30-ish? There was a lovely version of Short Time of Trouble thereupon, and it doesn't seem to be listed on the site playlist. Alas!)
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: (bliss.)
Permit me a moment of pop-esoteria. I am a double virgo, which means that both my sun and ascendant were in the sign of the virgin at the hour of my birth. Most people on my friends' list probably knew already what that means-- and can guess the implications-- but I like to be thorough. Now, that statement aside, anyone who has seen my car and/or my various living situations throughout the years are possibly raising their eyebrows at this point, as Virgos are supposed to be fussy, anal clean-freaks of the severely type-A... er, type.

This is the point where I usually point to the moon in sag and 5 planets in my Libran 4th house, which means (from my more-or-less ankle-deep reading of astrology) that the Virgo, strong as it is, is totally undermined by a metric shit-ton of flighty air right in the place that governs habitation. Libra also wants to have things just right, but if it can't, it says "well fuck you too miss Hedwig!" and takes its scales somewhere else, preferably where it matters. Now, I /usually/ point to this here-- but not today. Oh boy, not today.

Today, tonight, my fussy, anal, too-oft neglected Double-Earth-House-Goddess is In Her Element. I get to take my slow, sweet time putting the various objects I have collected and kept with me for the past month WHEREVER I WANT. In a neat, and orderly fashion, that even if it will largely change in about a week, when the rest of my stuff comes out of storage... well, that's fine, because a) my mom will be here to help out and b) It will all be NEAT and all the crap I still don't want will be TOSSED OUT or it will be ORGANIZED and Exactly Where It Will Be Going Ultimately and, and, and...

OOOH, it's just like the scene in Too Wong Foo where they're stuck in the little po-dunk town and have Operation Decorator Storm in their room and SQUEE!

I think It's officially time to set up the 360 and decide what The First Movie I shall play is.

(Yes. I am a complete dork. Don't judge. That's Libra's job.)
caudelac: (ded of vibrato)
Everything that was at the Camping House is now in The New Flat. [livejournal.com profile] shieldhaven is a rockstar. Shane MacGowan's teeth make me cry.

Also, my lack of ability at figuring out built-in pump air mattresses. This may either be due to my being obtuse, or else 4 D-cell batteries that may not be there. Fortunately, I had a very large pile of pillows and blankets on which to sleep. Falconman will try again tonight.

Back to hoping that the cats have not been harassing Oscar-the-parakeet too much, and that the air conditioner, which seems to have been blowing hot air last night (turned it off when realized it was bloody 87, and the thing was set to 70-- went down to 80 after that) will be fixed.

It is perhaps unsurprising that I need a nap.
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: (climb the tower)
I go to get the Key To The New Place tomorrow morning. Not to be confused with September's Jeweled Key, but certainly just as sweet!

Week of no funds or furnishings till I can get crap out of storage to follow. Well, save a couch, assuming I can figure out how to get the really very comfy and nice one that Nat and Harris are letting me have over to The Place, as it is a little bigger than the rest of the stuff I have. Hrm.

Tasty understatement.

Well, in the words of Gregor Vorbarra, Let's See What Happens!
caudelac: (fuck the necessary.)
Got approved for my apartment-- sign the lease tomorrow, get the keys on the 30th. Stuff out of storage sometime (hopefully early) next month.

Fuck yeah! I have an address again!

My bed may be in storage, but I have a motherfucking address again!

DANCE!

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