Of Cabbages and Kings

It has been a really really long time since I posted anything. I was kind of waiting for "something" to happen.  Lots of things have happened.

The old fridge decided it would freeze the veggies constantly and just as constantly heat up the freezer portion so that ice and food in general was impossible.  I have a wonderful aunt. I call her Auntie Max.  She used to struggle with bills and such but has been quite fortunate in recent years.  She out of the blue, offered to write me a check for the cost of a basic refrigerator (after me posting things about looking for used ones) with the stipulation that I buy a brand new one. I cried a bit, because I was so happy to be offered something so unexpectedly.  Then I took her up on her offer. 

So, thanks to her and some finagling with the salesman by Jon, we have a brand new GE fridge that works great and feels much more roomy than that old side by side.  Because it wasn't offered in black, and because the idea of a giant white box sitting in my kitchen didn't really appeal to me, I invested in some chalkboard paint, so the front of the fridge can now be used as a giant message board. Awesome!  Chalkboard paint is one of the most brilliant inventions ever.  I even bought some sidewalk chalk that can be wiped off with just water.  Also awesome--no dusty eraser!  And it was cheap, which is always good when you are on a budget.
                                                          
                                                               BEFORE & AFTER

I have been working the past two Sundays at the Howell store.  The place is a mess. But I get to gossip with Nannette and the Dread Pirate Roberts and the day goes fast plus I get to keep all my hours.  So, its fine. I have not seen the heinous manager and don't expect to since I am told he rarely, if ever, works Sundays.  Also I work with the Graham Cracker's younger brother and he is just as hard a worker as she is so that makes me smile.  He also has her mannerisms packed into a very blonde package instead of her very brunette one.

I do miss having my two days off in a row.  I seem to accomplish more and feel more rested.  And maybe the in laws' yard will need a mow soon.  I need to work off $20 and I'd like to earn $20 more at some point. I haven't mowed my yard in a month.  Theirs I haven't mowed in two weeks.

The New Hudson store has a new receiver. We have always derogatorily referred to her as The Princess.  It's for a good reason. She took this job on TOP of her current duties with no raise. What an idiot.  But, she isn't doing her work and is pawning it off onto others and the Spurminator, of course, is enabling her to do so.  You want the job, you do the work. End of story.  I have so far squirmed out of several things that were her job because I didn't agree to take the job of receiver. It's a rough job.  I have worked with some of the best receivers in the business.  I respected and HELPED them of my own choosing.  I do not and never will respect The Princess.

The Princess and Spur Girl crossed paths two days ago.  The Princess was putting pallets in Spur Girl's way.  An altercation ensued. Spur Girl has the temper of an old stick of dynamite and the mouth of a truck driver.  So she called The Princess out on her laziness, threw some mini skids, and The Princess responded with general mouthiness about doing the work of three people (an absolute lie) which exacerbated the situation.  The Princess is a manager.  Managers can not behave that way.  No matter what names she's called or language is used.  She is supposed to be professional and grown up and handle it that way. Did not happen.  All people who witnessed this altercation were asked to write a statement for Human Resources.  One refused. And the rest were good sheep.  Too bad I wasn't a witness.  I would have written a statement saying that the Princess added fuel to the fire and that if she'd been doing her job properly the last three weeks this never would have happened.  In a fair world, both parties would get a write up. In the TSC world, I'm sure it will only be Spur Girl.

Took both dogs to the mobile vet in the Wasteland today. $125 for 3 months Heartguard for both dogs (I will have to buy more but am not currently made of money), two heart worm tests, two three year rabies shots, and two toe nail trims.  It's one hell of a bargain.  Doggles, of course was a complete baby about the blood draw and the nail clipping.  He made awful little piggy squeal noises the whole time and the other people there with dogs just laughed at him and said he was a pretty dog.  Emma, was quite surprisingly well behaved an unafraid of the other people and dogs.  I was quite surprised.  She even made friends with a pretty little cocker spaniel and wanted to play!  Generally, I have to watch her because she is so terrified she gets a little snippy.

Then both dogs had a bath because I keep finding random fleas despite having the animals on flea treatments.  I swear these city fleas are becoming immune.  And sprayed the carpet with Wisdom TC which is supposed to be the shit (I did this last week as well) but apparently the larvae are nearly impossible to kill so you have to wait until they hatch.  Good thing about Wisdom, it doesn't leave an odor or stain.

I went to obtain new dog licenses because in June they are $10 a piece instead of the usual $30...so its worth the deadline. I found that the dog license lady is now obsolete and they have combined this service with the water department at the water department building. Might have been nice to tell your residents?

I know, it probably makes lots of economical sense, but I was annoyed that I had to drive somewhere else in the 90+ degree day when I just wanted to go home and do laundry and get all my chores done so I can relax.  Also, I had to listen to some man pleading with them to not shut off his water because he had been out of town for months and months and didn't realize his pipes had burst over the winter and had been paying down the balance a bit at a time, couldn't they work with him?  You know, the usual.

The lady looked very relieved that all I wanted was dog licenses.

And that's the past three weeks.

Living in a Haunted House

Haunted houses; they have a reputation.  Haunted houses are often remote, in some part of a dark forest where there is a perpetual storm and possible secret burials. The houses are occupied by the Munsters, or the Addams Family, or the vampires and witches from Anne Rice's novels and normal people fear to tread the dark, musty halls.

                                            Add a couple "sheet-ghosts" for good measure.

I have always lived in haunted houses. My parent's house was in the woods. It was a Uni-Built that no one else but our family had ever lived in. My parents still live there. It's a very warm, happy place. I learned to be friends with the animals, play outdoors, and a healthy work ethic there.  (I later learned how spoiled I really was as a child because I knew where 80 percent of my food was grown and the people who grew the food.)

                                                    This is a pretty close facsimile.

Strange things happened there. I heard voices. I saw boxes move on their own. I heard footsteps, doors slam, and I investigated. I heard whistling.  No one was ever there.  It happened at night, in broad daylight, when I was alone, or when I was surrounded by people. It simply didn't matter. I was only particularly afraid once or twice.  The whistling was the worst.  I had to ask it to stop aloud...it did, but it didn't want to obey, not really.  My parents never really believed me, even though, sometimes, they heard the same noises I did and were puzzled.  Like the sound of a door slamming, that, upon further investigation was locked with a padlock; they couldn't explain it and since they couldn't explain it, didn't seem worried about it.  But, most of the time, I was the only one to witness the various weird.

My brother has never said whether anything happened to him there, and I never remember to ask.  

I moved into my grandma's 1970 Detroiter. It was a tiny mobile home that was the first home my grandparents owned.  They'd spent their whole lives renting and finally were able to scrimp and save to buy this tiny little piece of land with this tiny little trailer on it.  It was yellow, white and black and bordered a forest/pasture, Mill Creek, which flooded, sometimes over the road, and a swamp. Vicious mosquitoes were our neighbors.

                                              Yep, that's a Detroiter.

Oddly enough, about this time I also moved in with a Detroiter. My future husband, Jon, was from a suburb of Detroit.  Also, because of the first initial of my grandparents', and my last name was on the front door was exactly the Old English script D of the Detroit Tigers...it seemed so strange at the time.  My grandma wanted me to live there when she was no longer able to live on her own.  She died soon after I moved in.  I'd see things like her rocking chair rocking when no one was around; and ornaments on my small Christmas tree move for no reason....Jon saw things too. And, also, heard things. He had the idea that the ghosts didn't like him.  I used to tell him its just Grandma, say hello...but if it had been Grandpa, I suppose Grandpa wouldn't have known who this guy was in "his house" and maybe it would have been creepy. Grandma had gotten to meet Jon a couple times and liked him, as far as I know.

I currently live in a 1949 house near Detroit that pretty much looks like all the other houses that were mass produced after the soldiers came home from WWII.

                                           The whole town looks like this, for miles.

The neighbors are close enough that you can hear their phones ring when I am in my own yard, or sometimes, my own house.  We have the largest trees in the area, and we still have those pesky mosquitoes since South East Michigan is basically an enormous swamp.

We have heard, individually and together, the sounds of happy parties going on inside our house. Muffled voices, muffled bits and pieces of music, happy sounds.

 Lately, though, I have heard the same noise twice, and its quite disconcerting. Knocking.  The dogs, know its not a person. How, I don't know, they just KNOW.  Neither time did they bark or become the least bit excited.  The first time, I was alone, in bed, reading. Jon was at a friend's house.  I jumped up to investigate thinking one of Jon's friends must be outside knocking on the front door or that Jon himself was home and didn't want to bother with his key.  Nope. Nothing. I called Jon, kind of spooked. He didn't think much of it. I am often unsettled by living around so many people when I was always used to living in a place where I knew all my neighbors even if they were miles from my house.

Tonight, Jon and I were both home, sitting on the sofa watching Netflix when the knocking happened.  The dogs, not even Emma, the dog of constant vigilance who also isn't used to living around so many other people, turned a hair; I think she may have yawned. Jon was quite perturbed and did the thing I did the first time I heard the knocking; looked out all the doors and windows. Nothing.  We have never heard other people knock on our neighbor's front doors. Also, this always seems to happen quite late at night...so the odds of that are fairly low. Emma, of Constant Vigilance, always notes all happenings at neighboring houses with a ringing bark anyway.

                                                  Emma, of Constant Vigilance
Just when I forget I've always lived in a haunted house, something always reminds me....that energy has to go somewhere, I suppose. Dead, but not willing to be forgotten.

Vacation---an Epically Long Telling

Vacation started out with a bummer--we were on a little something I like to call "Shane-Time." Meaning we rely on Shane to pull through--on time--with a small task; and it takes three times as long as it would take anyone else. So vacation started a day late and I was cranky about it.  I had to make phone calls and let everyone know we would be a day late.

So on Monday we packed up the Jeep because Jon seemed to think there wouldn't be enough room for all our stuff and both dogs in the car; I really don't understand this, but Jon does seem to travel a bit heavy.  I can do with  two pairs of pants and an equal number of shirts and underthings (the parents DO have a washing machine and a dryer and I know how to use these luxuries).  He borrowed a small tv from his mother, and packed his off-brand Nintendo and his cartridges, some borrowed DVDs, and the laptop.  Good, I guess, since he tends to easily become bored at my parents house because they lack the use of a television beyond VCR and DVD needs and they are technologically impaired by their stubborn refusal to learn to use a computer so they don't own one of those either.  I, and others, have offered (past and present) to teach them to no avail.

I packed the dogs, their food, lots of chew bones, dog treats, toiletries, phones with a charger, ipod with charger (4-5 hours is a long time with only the craptastic stylings of FM or AM radio and I abhor being at the mercy of station owners), the GPS (just in case), and my few clothes, Jon's lots of extra socks, and his clothes...and, finally, after writing out feeding instructions for kitties, fish, and the bunny (easiest of all!) we were off!

Emma did great in the car the first half an hour or so; realized we weren't going to see Sadie and Ruth for the usual playdate, then hyperventilated on and off the entire time.  Needless to say; she didn't have to pee much.  Doggles, in his usual laid-back style, curled up into a ball, had a nap, and at times, watched the landscape.  Doggles did have to pee.  And so did I.

I became happier once the horrid boring flatness started to roll into hills, then the hills became larger hills with deeper valleys and, windy roads, gravel roads, and YAY HOME!!!

Emma met Bean, my parents dog with much apprehension and snipped at him a couple times on the leash.  Once she decided he didn't give a jot whether she was there or not and she got to sniff him on her own terms she loved him. 

She met my dad with her usual BARK BARK BARK as he came out of the basement (in Emma's mind the basement seems to be an unsecured entrance where strangers pop out of intermittently, STRANGER DANGER!) but once Doggles and I got much attention from my Dad she decided she was jealous and allowed him to pet her.  She alternately was shy of my Dad and loved him. It depended on whether, oddly enough, he was wearing a coat, a coat AND a hat or neither.  Odd dog.

Emma met my mom the next morning with similar results (Mom works from 1:30 pm until about 1:30 am; at least for now, they've threatened with lots of layoffs again this year and she's one of the lowest on the list).  But, all in all, she decided they were okay people.

Doggles excitedly jumped to and fro and demanded all his friends pay him his much deserved attention.  He is a little Napoleon.

The dogs enjoyed lots of off-leash walkies.

Jon and I drove to the Columbus Zoo and Aquarium on a beautiful sunny 60ish day.  There were regrettably a lot of rug rats but otherwise it was an enjoyable day.  I have problems with people who believe that it is more important for their offspring to ogle the animals than it is for anyone else even though we've all paid the ticket price.

Jon and I were both jealous of the "Special People" who somehow got to go in with the elephants and the rhinos and feed them cookies...how did you get to do that? How much did that cost? And, most importantly, I WANT TO FEED A RHINO A COOKIE!!!!

And, EXCITEMENT!!!! Dad, Emma, Doggles, Bean, and I went for a walk. Emma, snagged her ear on a barb-wire fence and was covered in blood.  Stopping the bleeding was difficult. I assume she snagged the ear near a vein.  Didn't seem to cause her much pain and was more bewildered that I was trying to keep her from shaking her head and spattering it all over. As it was, we cleaned scads of blood off the aluminum siding, the screen door and the porch. 

Jon was sent to the store for styptic powder. I was hopelessly sticky with blood, sitting outside, barefoot and wet (it was raining) with a wet, bleeding dog while my dad was trying to think of ways to help.  Then Jon calls from the store and says something is wrong with the Jeep (oh, joy)  in his good-natured willingness to help he had mistakenly thought that it would help to put the Jeep in four wheel drive then drive on the wet road.  Jon had left his phone so if he got stranded wouldn't have a way to let us know.

So my dad had to drive to town to make sure Jon made it back.  Basically whatever is wrong involves the four wheel drive gear box or something. Always these things seem to happen near a weekend and repair shops are not weekend friendly. So, we didn't get it fixed and drove all over Ohio and back to Michigan. Made it just fine. Does need looking after, though. Dad seemed to think the gear boxes may be out of lubricant...he had a similar problem with his old 1979 Bronco. Don't know.

Stopped the bleeding--until the next day when Miss Emma Squirms a Lot decided she needed to roll around like a goofball on the carpet (my parents have brand new carpet and freshly painted walls) shake her head and bleed some more.  So we attached a bit of paper towel to her wound (lol its still there) and tied her out at the dog box. She was NOT impressed. And Jon sat out there with her for a long time to quiet her barking.

I got to scrub blood out of carpet with carpet cleaner (thankfully my parents had bought stain-resistant carpet) and off of the walls (Windex is remarkably up to the job).  The only other thing she managed to bleed on was a quilt that my Grandmother made and mom has assured me that it washed out (oh, I thought I was going to be in trouble...but why my mom put such a fine thing on the bed when she knew me and my messiness was on its way home, I will never know). 

We ate lots of Killbuck Pizza. Well, I ate just the toppings. Bean was well spoiled with crust.  We ate tasty Mexican food in Coshocton. Went to a thrift store in Millersburg where I bought a pair of $4 jeans. We bought three bottles of Blackberry wine from Breitenbach in Sugarcreek (where I decided I really do hate tourists, even though I suppose I am technically now one of them...but I guess I'm not really a tourist. I know the back roads, I knew which wine I wanted and we got out of that horribly crowded winery in less than five minutes).  We went to the Antique Mall in New Philadelphia, to a cheese house in Charm, laughed at an Amish man talking on a cell phone while driving a pony hitched to a sulky and dragging a huge tractor tire down the road.  Yes, weird. Yes, wildly local to that area and still hilarious. 

Visited old co-workers who are still some of my most awesome friends. How I love you, Kate.  I suspect you will never know just how much. Offering your car when Jon thought his went to shit was beyond the call of duty.  Glad I got to see you.  And Gregg...you look awesome considering the last time I was home you'd had quadruple bypass surgery and I was told you had cancer.  You are still my favorite receiver ever...you big, earring wearing Harley driving teddy bear!

Dad did force me to visit my only surviving grandparent on the grounds that Dad suspects he won't last long. But he didn't make me stay long. The old house, while far far far from clean, looked lots cleaner than I remember. Oh, well, you can't chose your family. Wish I could have liked you Grandpa, but I never have.  I was absolutely stunned to hear that you had wanted to see me when I was home for Christmas. Stunned.  You've never shown much interest in me since I've never offered to let you use me for your own ends like you do so many of the others. I saw through all that shit when I was a fairly small child.  I don't hate you. I just never liked you or what you stood for.

We had lunch with my brother and Katie, who had some news that she was being tested for preclampsia and would have to pee in a bottle all day at work and have it refrigerated.  I think she finds out the results tomorrow. She definitely didn't look good.  Her feet were swollen as wide as they are long and her face is quite puffy.  Hope all is well.

Saw my aunt Nita and Uncle Jimmy briefly.

Caught up on all the local gossip.

Breathed fresh air.

Saw total darkness.

Heard almost perfect silence.

Saw my first honeybee of the year on my mom's crocuses.

Had fun, spent too much money, and still feel it was well worth it.

And now, back to work.  On the upside, I can see my Michigan friends. 

It's ALIVE!

The parts store, of course, ordered the wrong a/c bypass pulley for the Jeep putting Jon in a mood I'll attribute to the big, bad wolf.  He was so mad at them, he didn't give them a chance to order the correct part...because, for some reason, when you tell people you need a part for a 1996 Jeep Cherokee with a 4.0 Litre inline 6, they hear "Grand Cherokee". Nope. Not the same. 

So, I took matters into my own hands, ordered the correct pulley from amazon, paid $12 extra for 2 day shipping because the parts store  was going to charge me $50 no matter what (I had budgeted for $50 even though the part on Amazon was $38 and figured a mere $12 was worth a week's worth of NOT hearing "I just want my Jeep to run......whine, whine, snivel..")

Yesterday being a beautiful 50 degree January day in Michigan, Ed was busy and couldn't do the install.  So, of course, Ed also apparently being a morning person, knocks on the door at 8 am ready to fix the Jeep.  The clutch we were bypassing was totally disintegrated...no shocker. The compressor isn't locked up or anything. Jon may try to sell it on CraigsList. 

I'm positive the a/c woes have nothing to do with the compressor anyway, vehicles with over 200,000 miles rarely hold the freon (yes, yes, its not freon anymore but I dunno what the new chemical is called) charge and its not worth the cost.  If he can sell it, I'm all for it.

Ed tinkered and by 8:30 the Jeep roared to life.  Jon is happy, meaning I am happy. 

Also meaning I don't have to drive to Westland, drive to work, then drive to Westland.  Yay! I hate driving in Westland. It's a land of the under-educated, folks with less than standard issue common sense who are sheep and loooovvve to visit the shopping district, more than your average percentage of drunk drivers, stupid incompetent teen drivers, and people driving the following car types: New expensive SUVs, alligator-snooted mini-vans, Cadillacs, and cars that are generally held together with duct tape.  All of whom, I find, (through generalization)  have drivers who are completely oblivious to others and will frequently, line  up in LANES of the MAIN STREET at a DEAD STOP to go to some gas station on the corner where gas is 3 cents cheaper so people going through have no way to maneuver around aforementioned assholes.

In other news, Bear is finished with his hunger strike, meaning the in laws are due back today...we have been feeding him things like dollar menu hamburgers...and  he will nibble on his dog food after eating a hamburger...the fiend.

Peaches, the bird, has gone insane and is plucking itself.  I think he hates Jon and I.  Am afraid Patti is going to freak out over her bald bird.  We told Bob, who is not emotionally attached to it, but there really isn't anything we can do for Peaches.  I think he just misses Patti.

Me and Ratty McGee

We have rodents, oh yes...no real reason, we aren't uber clean but not complete slobs...the only reason we have rodents is that our house is old and hard to seal up.  Also, probably the MAIN reason, most of the drywall in our utility room is missing due to plumbing issues, so if an errant vermin winds up in the crawl space or the attic, its pretty simple for it to just climb through the wall and into the house.

That being said, mice always move into our house during winter. I have some experience catching them (and cats) on glue traps.  Yes, I have caught my OWN cat on a glue trap.  Lots of cooking oil, then lots of Dawn soap and I ended up with one mad, and still somehow greasy, kitty cat.  Seems my cats only want to catch and eat the mice that are already caught.

This, however is different.  I found big poo behind the stove, along with insulation that seems to be from the stove. By big, I mean, too large for a mouse, too small to be my cats suddenly deciding they don't feel like using their litter box because they have suddenly become senile.  I cleaned it all up including any food, also did behind the fridge. 

I woke up at 4 am because of some weird rattling noise.  Because of my sleep disorientation, I didn't really locate the sound so I wondered around the house, found nothing, and ended up in the bathroom.  I poked at the small trash can and out this rat came...and, because I was startled, I screamed. Yep. Screamed. Me.  Unusual.  But I was sleep retarded.  I mean, what was I really expecting?  I poked at something to cause some sort of result, right?  Well, I got it then I acted like some shiny cellophane princess. 

The dogs gave chase but to no avail.  The cats simply looked unnerved.  Like, "Erm...oh THAT was what that weird noise was...scary...what? Why are you looking at us like we should be doing something?"

Jon mumbled at me, asked if I was okay when I climbed back into bed, trying to fight off an adrenaline rush because despite the 4 hours of sleep I was still dead tired, so I wanted to go to sleep. Still do, for that matter..but alas, am awake. Then he went back to snoring...until more scratching started then HE became unnerved. 

So, at the unholy hour of 7 am I was on my way to Home Depot to buy some rat traps. Oh yes, I got the ones that look like big, black clothespins so that if I do manage to catch Ratty McGee and probably his pals as well, that I don't have to touch the fuckers to release them from the trap.  Also, it looks difficult to accidentally spring this while setting, which, to me, is a bonus. Mouse traps hurt. A rat trap would probably break a finger.

It is now twenty to nine in the morning. I am exhausted. Jon is....sleeping...damn him, and I am  probably going to try to go back to sleep.  I don't have to leave for work until...12 30pm. 

I hate you Ratty McGee.

Sleepy

Two days off work is great for an attitude adjustment, which makes me feel like the corporate idiots need to schedule ALL full time employees two days off in a ROW each week.  I was less annoyed with customers and my job today than usual, even though I work the same number of hours each week.  It's just nice to have a two day break from the annoying. 

Jon and I celebrated our "Early Gift Day."  I got spoiled with a new Ipod Nano and the entire Freaks and Geeks series.  I did not expect such riches. I just knew Jon was being all secretive and buying me things.  Which, of course, caused me to buy him things even though we had discussed NOT participating in the holiday frenzy this year.  The gifts I bought were less extravagant, but were what Jon wanted.  Magic cards and a pair of nice wool socks.  Still, he was sad that I didn't spend so much as he spent.  Ugh. Frustrating considering this is exactly why we usually don't do the whole gift thing.  I wasn't aware we had money to spend...but, I am of the opinion that I need spoiling once in a while, and I don't spoil myself, so he should.   I spoil him. 

I am so tired despite having days off.   The dog trio loved to wake me up every morning at around 9 am if I was lucky to stay in bed that long to go outside and romp.  Sadie was so easy and quiet, but this dog pack was quite rowdy and not ready to allow me to rest.  They fed off each other's energy.  Funny, Doggles and Emma are BOTH sleeping on the couch next to me at the moment, the most relaxed I've seen them in days.  Emma misses Sadie, though. I heard her whining a few times.  All in all, they were all good dogs and caused little to no trouble.

Jon's pal Shane was over until 3 am last night.  Didn't seem to understand that Jon and I were going to get up early-ish...Jon to go to work, me to go have tea with Ruth and take Sadie home.  Of course, he is used to getting up at 4 pm and getting off work at 3 am...so he's completely backwards.  I like Shane, I just wanted to go to sleep.  I should sleep right now. But Jon is over at Shane's and I never seem to sleep when he's not home. 

Check engine light is still on.  I was going to have a girl use her code reader on it while we were at work but she left at  9 and the rest of us left at 9 30 so I didn't quite catch her in time.  Sigh.  I guess I can go to Autozone, but I still hate the "boy's club" feeling I get whenever I go to those places.  I could send Jon but that makes me feel even more of a stupid female...but on the other hand, I do get tired of dealing with realities...seems like that's all I ever do anymore.  Be nice to have a reality errand boy.  I probably should buy a replacement gas cap and see if that does the trick, $20, relatively inexpensive, and probably worth the peace of mind if it would do the trick.

Not sure if I am taking one dog, two dogs, or no dogs to my parent's house this weekend. Need to decide, though.  I hate leaving Doggles. He is completely MY dog...and understand what Ruth means when she says she thinks she is doggie co-dependent.  I also don't want him to go through that horrible "I EAT YOUR STUFF" phase again...and me being absent from him seems to trigger it...wish he'd get over it.  I guess he's human codependent. 

And, as much as Doggles is my dog, Emma is Jon's.  She just loves him more.  I am not offended.  Some personalities just mesh better.  She's so easy going and easily startled, that its funny that someone so brash, opinionated and loud at times gets her...but then, Jon is high-tempered and has to think about what he's doing more when she's around...I think they are good for each other.




We still have mice.  Uck.  Meaning I should buy traps.  Uck.  The glue traps were a bad idea, since I caught a not too happy cat.  So I suppose I should get the ucky smash 'em traps.  Poison is definitely out. Too many animals that I don't want to eat a poisoned mouse...otherwise, I'd totally poison the horrible little nuisances.  I don't want to do any of this. Jon refuses to deal with the mice, or did last winter, making it all my problem.  How many man points do I get for disposing of sad little corpses?  Makes me sad.  They're not evil, they just happen to have invaded my territory and get into things I don't want them into. Mice shouldn't be so cute; I'd feel less guilty.  With two cats, I'd think they'd catch them, but they only catch the mice that are already stuck to the glue traps.  Sigh.  I guess I should get a mouser...but then, I don't want another cat.  I am at my limit.