Sep. 2nd, 2005

mousme: A view of a woman's legs from behind, wearing knee-high rainbow socks. The rest of the picture is black and white. (Get off my ship)
Got home to an email from [livejournal.com profile] ai731 saying that she'd seen a cat resembling Smudge's description on her window sill, crying to be let in. Not knowing if it was Smudge, she'd let him be.

Smudge was indeed missing when I got home. I noticed he wasn't around when I got in, but that's hardly unusual as he likes to hide. A more thorough search indicated that he was, indeed, nowhere to be found.

So the cats broke through the screen on my front window. [livejournal.com profile] ai731 recognized George as he made his escape and dumped him back inside my apartment and shut the window so the miniature Houdinis wouldn't get any other bright ideas. Smudge, however, remained AWOL.

[livejournal.com profile] ai731 was an absolute darling and loaned me her flashlight while I walked around the street and called his name. I felt like the lady who used to live on my street when I was small and who used to shriek for her dog at 6am. I am amazed at how calm I remained, comparatively speaking. When George got out the last time, I was a sobbing, hysterical mess. This time I don't even think my voice wavered.

So I looked for the bugger for an hour, and eventually, on a hunch, looked once again under the front porch of [livejournal.com profile] ai731's house (she lives downstairs, and thus has a porch). This time I got down on all fours to look, and sure enough, hidden way at the back on a pile of dirt which kept him mostly obscured from the street, was the wayward cat.

I enlisted [livejournal.com profile] ai731's help once more to dislodge him. When a broom handle proved ineffective, we had to turn the hose on the poor guy, and he was out of there like a shot. He ran up the neighbour's stairs, and I chased him over onto my balcony, where [livejournal.com profile] ai731 cornered him, and we dumped him back in my apartment in a hissing, spitting, wet ball of feline fury and indignation.

So, all's well that ends well. So much for my quiet night at home and going to bed early. At least he's safe, and I don't have to take the day off work tomorrow to find him.
mousme: A view of a woman's legs from behind, wearing knee-high rainbow socks. The rest of the picture is black and white. (Sign of Hope)
I've had the song in my head on and off (alternating with the theme song to "Captain Planet" of all the awful things) all week. It seems appropriate.

Lyrics to 'Bourbon and Division' under here )
mousme: A view of a woman's legs from behind, wearing knee-high rainbow socks. The rest of the picture is black and white. (Gahoogy hoo! Coffee!)
So it has come to my attention that among my friends there are two schools of thought concerning the use of tea bags. To re-use, or not to re-use?

Complete purists don't use tea bags at all (I admit, tea leaves do taste better). Semi-purists will only use the tea bag for one cup of tea, or one pot at a time. The others see nothing wrong with re-using a tea bag once or twice, since it retains the flavour for a while.

So, to which school of thought do you belong? Or, if you don't drink tea, I've left you another voting option. :)


[Poll #563386]

...

I still don't have a tea icon.

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