I refuse to use another onomatopeia as a subject to a post

For now, anyway.

Spent quiet day with Paternal Unit. Breakfast, then we were supposed to go for lunch at La Transition but it turns out it's only open for dinner. At least, it was closed (although the sign said open, the locked door indicated otherwise) and there were no opening hours listed.

We tried going to a nearby Indian place originally named The Taj Mahal. It too turned out to be closed for lunch, but only on Saturdays.

We ended up having lunch at a little Italian place called "Pronto" where I had an overly-salted spaghetti Puttanesca and a decent tartufo al cioccolato. My father had what turned out to be excellent mussels and a glass of white wine, while I polished off almost an entire bottle of San Pellegrino.

I later stopped in to visit my old friend NA, who just moved back into her house after a two year absence and is in a tizzy about the state of her houseplants. So I helped her sort them out and then we sorted through some of her old artwork. I've never really cared for her art: she's not remarkably talented, and this was stuff she'd done *before* going to art school, so it was pretty dismal. She kept trying to convince me to take stuff home with me, so I ended up with a nude and an etching of a slug which is actually quite amusing.

She was going out to dinner at 6, so once I had helped her with that she said she'd have to throw me out, and I returned home, where I've been ever since.

Am slowly but surely trying to whip the appartment into shape. Did my monthly thorough scrubbing/cleaning/disinfecting of the cats' litter boxes, and the room now smells much the better for it. Am going to Rockland centre tomorrow to investigate the ultra high-tech uberlitter that firewillow told me about, because this is getting out of hand. Poor Pan-Pan in particular seems to be very sensitive to cat litter, and I have yet to find one that doesn't seem to cause him some kind of irritation.

As usual, George decided that he had to go at the exact time that I was scrubbing out the boxes and yowled pitifully at me for torturing him in this unaccustomed manner. It doesn't matter at what time of the day I do it, either: his bladder and/or bowels declare at precisely that moment that they need to use the box.

Once the litter boxes were organised, he went into Hyper Bouncing Cat Of Doom mode and streaked all over the apartment, jumped all over the chairs, bit Pan-Pan, jumped up at the walls (a good four feet in the air I might add), yowled hysterically and generally made a nuisance of himself. He's now curled up on the carpet snoozing away as though nothing had happened, much as he was before I cleaned out the litter boxes.

I love my cats, but boy are they weird.

Pan-Pan gets more affectionate each day, I might add. Last night, as I was sitting on the floor contemplating the meaning of existence, burning some incense and listening to Allegri's "Miserere" he came and settled in my lap, draped his feet and head over my arm, and purred. So we just sat there for an hour and cuddled. I petted him, he purred, and George curled up next to us and purred too.

I must say, when you're feeling like crap warmed over, there's nothing like having a cat (or any furry creature) coming over and letting you know that it loves you more than anyone else in the world. Definitely a case of the warm fuzzies there. Especially as I'm finding human relationships so damned difficult these days.

Going back to the apartment thing, I think I'll have to get my act together and do a thorough cleaning job in the kitchen, which notably means clenaing out my fridge. *sigh* There are few chores I dislike more (the litter boxes are one, the dishes are another), but it must be done, I guess.

I also need to tidy up the rest of the apartment, and maybe start the war on cat hair again. It's a losing battle, but even desperate causes still wade into the fray every so often.

I refuse to use another onomatopeia as a subject to a post

For now, anyway.

Spent quiet day with Paternal Unit. Breakfast, then we were supposed to go for lunch at La Transition but it turns out it's only open for dinner. At least, it was closed (although the sign said open, the locked door indicated otherwise) and there were no opening hours listed.

We tried going to a nearby Indian place originally named The Taj Mahal. It too turned out to be closed for lunch, but only on Saturdays.

We ended up having lunch at a little Italian place called "Pronto" where I had an overly-salted spaghetti Puttanesca and a decent tartufo al cioccolato. My father had what turned out to be excellent mussels and a glass of white wine, while I polished off almost an entire bottle of San Pellegrino.

I later stopped in to visit my old friend NA, who just moved back into her house after a two year absence and is in a tizzy about the state of her houseplants. So I helped her sort them out and then we sorted through some of her old artwork. I've never really cared for her art: she's not remarkably talented, and this was stuff she'd done *before* going to art school, so it was pretty dismal. She kept trying to convince me to take stuff home with me, so I ended up with a nude and an etching of a slug which is actually quite amusing.

She was going out to dinner at 6, so once I had helped her with that she said she'd have to throw me out, and I returned home, where I've been ever since.

Am slowly but surely trying to whip the appartment into shape. Did my monthly thorough scrubbing/cleaning/disinfecting of the cats' litter boxes, and the room now smells much the better for it. Am going to Rockland centre tomorrow to investigate the ultra high-tech uberlitter that firewillow told me about, because this is getting out of hand. Poor Pan-Pan in particular seems to be very sensitive to cat litter, and I have yet to find one that doesn't seem to cause him some kind of irritation.

As usual, George decided that he had to go at the exact time that I was scrubbing out the boxes and yowled pitifully at me for torturing him in this unaccustomed manner. It doesn't matter at what time of the day I do it, either: his bladder and/or bowels declare at precisely that moment that they need to use the box.

Once the litter boxes were organised, he went into Hyper Bouncing Cat Of Doom mode and streaked all over the apartment, jumped all over the chairs, bit Pan-Pan, jumped up at the walls (a good four feet in the air I might add), yowled hysterically and generally made a nuisance of himself. He's now curled up on the carpet snoozing away as though nothing had happened, much as he was before I cleaned out the litter boxes.

I love my cats, but boy are they weird.

Pan-Pan gets more affectionate each day, I might add. Last night, as I was sitting on the floor contemplating the meaning of existence, burning some incense and listening to Allegri's "Miserere" he came and settled in my lap, draped his feet and head over my arm, and purred. So we just sat there for an hour and cuddled. I petted him, he purred, and George curled up next to us and purred too.

I must say, when you're feeling like crap warmed over, there's nothing like having a cat (or any furry creature) coming over and letting you know that it loves you more than anyone else in the world. Definitely a case of the warm fuzzies there. Especially as I'm finding human relationships so damned difficult these days.

Going back to the apartment thing, I think I'll have to get my act together and do a thorough cleaning job in the kitchen, which notably means clenaing out my fridge. *sigh* There are few chores I dislike more (the litter boxes are one, the dishes are another), but it must be done, I guess.

I also need to tidy up the rest of the apartment, and maybe start the war on cat hair again. It's a losing battle, but even desperate causes still wade into the fray every so often.

Dear God this place is a mess!

I hadn't realised how much I had let the appartment go until I started cleaning. Eeek!

Seriously, it's pretty gross. I mean, I'm a little embarassed to say this in public as it were, but Mother of God! On the other hand, I am well on my way to making this place livable again. The kitchen is now entirely clean except for the dishes. I cleaned out the refrigerator, which was massively unpleasant: I try to keep it in relatively good shape, but I had missed one or two things at the back which had since taken on a life of their own, and I'm pretty sure one of them tried to grab and bite me before I shoved it unceremoniously into a green garbage bag. Puke.

George tried to climb into the garbage bag, and for a moment I was tempted to tie him up and dump him with it for being such a nuisance, but the feeling passed relatively quickly.

Now I have to do the dishes, which is boring but not as bad as what I was doing before. Then I'll pick up all the crap lying around in the living room, throw out (well, recycle, anyway) most of the random papers that have been accumulating for the past two months (I'm bad about throwing away paper stuff), vacuum the carpets in a vain attempt to rid them of cat hair, and do a bit of dusting.

Tomorrow I may do some laundry, as I'm running out of clean socks. I'll also have to run out and a) buy food, because cleaning out my fridge made me realise I have nothing to eat, and b) stop by the pharmacy for some random stuff, including either talcum powder or some equivalent "odour-eating" substance, because my winter boots don't exactly let my feet breathe, and as I'm in them all day at work, it gets pretty nasty in there.

Oh, and I'll have to clean the bathroom, too. The whole place needs a proper going-over, but it'll have to be done in stages. In fact, as I was planning on an early night tonight *looks at watch* I may have to be content with doing the dishes and picking up the crap in the living room.

It's me against the Forces of Dirtiness!

Heh.

Dear God this place is a mess!

I hadn't realised how much I had let the appartment go until I started cleaning. Eeek!

Seriously, it's pretty gross. I mean, I'm a little embarassed to say this in public as it were, but Mother of God! On the other hand, I am well on my way to making this place livable again. The kitchen is now entirely clean except for the dishes. I cleaned out the refrigerator, which was massively unpleasant: I try to keep it in relatively good shape, but I had missed one or two things at the back which had since taken on a life of their own, and I'm pretty sure one of them tried to grab and bite me before I shoved it unceremoniously into a green garbage bag. Puke.

George tried to climb into the garbage bag, and for a moment I was tempted to tie him up and dump him with it for being such a nuisance, but the feeling passed relatively quickly.

Now I have to do the dishes, which is boring but not as bad as what I was doing before. Then I'll pick up all the crap lying around in the living room, throw out (well, recycle, anyway) most of the random papers that have been accumulating for the past two months (I'm bad about throwing away paper stuff), vacuum the carpets in a vain attempt to rid them of cat hair, and do a bit of dusting.

Tomorrow I may do some laundry, as I'm running out of clean socks. I'll also have to run out and a) buy food, because cleaning out my fridge made me realise I have nothing to eat, and b) stop by the pharmacy for some random stuff, including either talcum powder or some equivalent "odour-eating" substance, because my winter boots don't exactly let my feet breathe, and as I'm in them all day at work, it gets pretty nasty in there.

Oh, and I'll have to clean the bathroom, too. The whole place needs a proper going-over, but it'll have to be done in stages. In fact, as I was planning on an early night tonight *looks at watch* I may have to be content with doing the dishes and picking up the crap in the living room.

It's me against the Forces of Dirtiness!

Heh.

Spam!

Gryffindor

While not the most common sign for Gryffindors to be born under, the combination of Gryffindor aims with Capricorn traits results in wizards who are exceptionally well balanced. For once, here are Gryffindors who will not go charging off on quests without first making thorough preparations and arranging for backup. They are resourceful, well grounded, and self confident, hard workers, and extremely reliable. You can always trust a Gryffindor Capricorn's word; they will not only mean it when they say they will do something, they will follow through successfully. House Prefects often come from this sign, because they are responsible, good students, and natural leaders. What many people forget about the Capricorn is that although they are part goat, they are also part mermaid. That mermaid half represents all the fanciful dreams and lofty ambitions that the quiet Capricorn often hides beneath an unassuming surface. Perhaps Capricorns are sorted into this House because the House needs balance, but those hidden dreams and whimsies probably have a lot to do with it, too.


Ravenclaw (the second category I usually fall into)

Ravenclaws born under the sign of Capricorn excel at their studies, because they have both a love of knowledge for its own sake and a deep desire to use that knowledge to gain prestige or authority. They are disciplined students with acute perception and shrewd minds; they might take a little longer to reach conclusions than their peers, but their conclusions tend to be more well thought out and thorough. They have dry, ironic wit and are fond of making subtle jokes that only those blessed with intelligence and perception can understand. There's not much that these wizards miss; they usually know what is going on long before anybody else does.


Go me!

Spam!

Gryffindor

While not the most common sign for Gryffindors to be born under, the combination of Gryffindor aims with Capricorn traits results in wizards who are exceptionally well balanced. For once, here are Gryffindors who will not go charging off on quests without first making thorough preparations and arranging for backup. They are resourceful, well grounded, and self confident, hard workers, and extremely reliable. You can always trust a Gryffindor Capricorn's word; they will not only mean it when they say they will do something, they will follow through successfully. House Prefects often come from this sign, because they are responsible, good students, and natural leaders. What many people forget about the Capricorn is that although they are part goat, they are also part mermaid. That mermaid half represents all the fanciful dreams and lofty ambitions that the quiet Capricorn often hides beneath an unassuming surface. Perhaps Capricorns are sorted into this House because the House needs balance, but those hidden dreams and whimsies probably have a lot to do with it, too.


Ravenclaw (the second category I usually fall into)

Ravenclaws born under the sign of Capricorn excel at their studies, because they have both a love of knowledge for its own sake and a deep desire to use that knowledge to gain prestige or authority. They are disciplined students with acute perception and shrewd minds; they might take a little longer to reach conclusions than their peers, but their conclusions tend to be more well thought out and thorough. They have dry, ironic wit and are fond of making subtle jokes that only those blessed with intelligence and perception can understand. There's not much that these wizards miss; they usually know what is going on long before anybody else does.


Go me!

One of the big questions...

Yeah, so been thinking about religion and other Large Issues™ of late, which has brought me to this poll:

[Poll #85831]

One of the big questions...

Yeah, so been thinking about religion and other Large Issues™ of late, which has brought me to this poll:

[Poll #85831]