Catness

I have attained it. Or rather - I've got one hand pinned by Laurier, so I'm doing this entry one-handed. My spelling will likely be much improved, as I keep having to look at what I'm doing.

So, yesterday. I did fuck all yesterday. Got up lovely late after dreams involving magical battles and aliens. Not sure why they were connected, but hey. Watered my plants and left the back door open for the cats to enjoy the sunshine and graze. (They do - it's the funniest thing. And they don't wander off - they're usually happiest to stick to me like glue and play with the rotation to see who's next on mom's lap)

And then I played Pharaoh. For nine hours. Built up two cities with three mastabas, two pyramids, and the sphinx. Oh sure, I took breaks - lunch, dinner, assorted cat pettings.
And my cable's back, so when it got to the last two pyramids, I just sort of let it run and switched between Jurassic Park and ... well, you can tell how much attention I was paying, because I can't remember. Well, the one had dinosaurs, and the other... oh yeah - Escape from LA. Thought about catching BC's scenes as the plastic surgeon, but I didn'y make it that far. Boggled a little at seeing Samuel Jackson as one of the computer guys in JP, but that was more along the lines of watching one scene where he's explaining something with a cigarette at the tip of his lips, and wondering 'how the hell does he get it to defy gravity?'

Finished the pyramid, turned off the tv and went to bed. And that my dears, is an utterly unproductive day. Today will be different - today there will be Open Houses!

Well, as soon as the giant rug masquerading as a cat gets off my lap.

House hunting

Urk.

That beautiful 6 bedroom place? No cats. Urk. (well, that and 4 other groups in front of me)

That little 4 bedroom hole in the wall? No cats. Urk. (didn't wanna live there anyway. ick)

The apartments are a no go. No room to spit or turn around, and less likely to take my cats. grr. snarl. hiss. Which leaves houses, and UDistrict or no, there aren't that many floating around. One open house tonight at 7... we'll see. I'm gonna go whine at Mom&Dad.

The saga continues

Parents are good things. Mine listen to me mull things over, and help me chew up the figures and spit out reasonable courses of action.

Things that don't involve killing the roommate or various and sundry landlords. Bugger.

Plan A: L&L move out here. I provide couchness, cheering squad.
Plan A.2: A also moves out. See above.

Plan B: I find a place to live for four of us, and three felines. We all move.

Plan C: I kill my roommate, provide room for L&L, help them find a place, A becomes new roomie, let stress all around.

I still like Plan B best, even though plan C involves me a) killing the roomie and b) not moving my books. Decisions, decisions.

This little rant was of course, predicated by my running out to an open house at 7, to this run downish place with *huge* rooms and lots of storage (that the landlady as going to spend the next month renovating)... but oops, no, sorry, no pets.

I understand, of course, I'm a very understanding person. I know where she's coming from.

Side thought - damn, but two of the guys were cute! Hot momma! <fans self>

Um, right. Where was I? Understanding. Right. And at the same time, while I'm mouthing all these platitudes, of course I understand where you're coming from, let's all be apologetic together, see ya bye -- I'm fuming - I want my cats, damn you all!

And one of the former tenants was blond, and he had these eyes that did just... lovely things to my spine.

So maybe the night wasn't so bad.