Who needs sleep?

Sleep has decided that it is not for me. Between the literal pain in my neck and some other factors, I am looking at another three hours of waiting until Bean and pdaughter get up for the day. So I'm using the time to catch up on Orphan Black, which is getting better with each passing episode. I can't express how much I love this show, and Tatiana Maslany is phenomenal. She basically carries this whole show, and plays anywhere from three to five characters per episode, which just makes my head spin. She always manages to make me forget that it's always her playing these people, because she makes them so different from each other, hair and makeup aside. Granted, she has great writing to work with, but still, even great writing needs a great actress to make it come to life, and this show delivers on both.

The vet decided it would be awesome to send me a card with some of George's fur taped inside it and his paw prints in ink alongside their condolences. I wasn't expecting to see that when I opened the envelope (honestly, I was expecting a reminder for Sergent's surgery), and I almost burst into tears. It might be a nice gesture if your cat died peacefully, but really all it did was stir up the horrific trauma of watching him get his head bashed in by a car and then bleeding to death in my arms. Thanks, vet. That was so thoughtful. >_< Also, it means they must have taken the prints off his corpse. Who even does that? It's gruesome. Christ.

This morning the guys are supposed to show up to build the fence. I really hope they get it done today in spite of what appears to be a suspicious lack of garden gate included with the delivery of the materials in my absence. It sounds like before they start they're going to expect me to saw off several branches of my lilac tree, which is going to be interesting given how much my neck and shoulder hurt. :P Once they're set up and busy building, my plan is to go to Réno Dépot and give them an earful about how rude their subcontractor was with me. This whole situation has been a bit of a shambles ever since I left for Moncton, and I am very displeased with the level of service I received. While I'm there I guess I'll pick up the remaining paving slab I need for the yard. Also, does anyone have any tips on splitting a paving slab diagonally? I have a weirdly shaped empty spot in my arrangement of paving slabs, and if I split one right down the middle it would likely fit almost perfectly, but I have no idea how to do that.  I should pick up a couple of bags of soil and some grass seed for the area around the slabs, too, to make it look a little better.

If they get here early enough I'm also going to take part of the afternoon to take myself clothes shopping (blech). It's a necessary evil, I suppose. My summer wardrobe is no longer appropriate for work at all. It's shabby and worn and most of it has holes in it now. *sigh* If not, I guess the clothes will have to wait until Wednesday, since everything will be closed on Tuesday.

I also have to chase down the guy for the basement floor, because I damned well need to get this house sold and he's been ignoring my calls for two weeks. As it is, my real estate agent tells me that the market dips right after St. Jean Baptiste, so that ship has sailed. At this point I'm wondering if I'm going to need to resign myself to the notion of losing my damned shirt on this house and continuing to haemorrhage money for the foreseeable future. All I can do is hope that I can make it through the next eleven and a half months without going bankrupt or ruining my credit permanently, or both. Although going bankrupt would ruin my credit permanently, I suppose. I don't know, I'm tired and my brain is fried. :P

I am feeling guilty about not using the time I'm awake to get some creative writing done, but honestly I don't have the focus for it right now. The best I can manage is this really disjointed LJ entry. So, uh, lucky you guys, you get to read my 3am ramblings! Isn't that exciting?

That's it for now, I suppose. I can't think of anything else to say.

:::ETA:::

I just remembered I need to go to U-Haul and buy boxes today so I can start packing, too. Tomorrow it'll be closed, and I want to pack then anyway as well as Wednesday, so the longer I wait the less time I'll have for that this week.

Also, laundry. I am in desperate need of a shower, so once everyone is awake I'll take a shower and then do all the laundry. If I can get everything on my list for today done, it will free up the next couple of days for the things that can't be moved around, like birthday parties and vet appointments and dinner with my parents on Wednesday.

So, yeah. Busy busy busy.

Day 23: What did he say?

For today's topic, miseri asked me what the wackiest thing about New Brunswick was.

Now, there is a long list of wacky things, but I have to say that the local French dialect is really what stood out for me. Remember, my work is done over the phone, so people's voice and language are usually all I have to go on. So getting calls from people speaking Chiac (I don't even know if that's how it's spelled, but the internet tells me I'm right) was a heck of an adventure.

I am a francophone by birth. A French Canadian, born speaking la Langue de Molière and the whole nine yards. Going to New Brunswick is a lesson in an entirely new language, or at least a new dialect. Most of the time, I had no idea what people were saying. Chiac seems to be comprised of 50% French, 30% English, and 20% mashing all your words together and speaking three times faster than the average person, so that every sentence comes out as one giant garbled string of syllables.

Everyone who came from out of province had the same trouble I did, so we all commiserated with each other about the incomprehensible local dialect, and muddled through as best we could. After all, when you're working 911, you can't just shrug and move on to the next caller. You have a responsibility to find out where the caller is, what they need, and get them the appropriate help. A lot of my calls involved getting people to repeat themselves over and over and over and over. "Slow down," I'd tell them. "Say it again, please. Can you spell that for me? More slowly. No, even MORE slowly. Okay, where is that? What? No, you're going too fast again."

Obviously some callers were stressed and frustrated, but for the most part they were really great with us. Most callers knew that we were there from other provinces doing relief work, and so they were incredibly patient.

My favourite name from the region was Elsipogtog. Pronounced EL-SEE-BOOK-TOOK, more or less, and depending on who you ask. It just sounds funny. :)

Best phone call was from a man whose wife had injured herself.

"Ma femme ah fallé en bas d'la steppe!" he informed me, sounding rather concerned. "Ah enfargée dans l'chien!"

Luckily this was toward the end of my stint there, so I understood immediately that he meant: "Ma femme est tombée dans les escaliers. Elle s'est enfargée sur le chien!" Which translates to: "My wife fell down the stairs. She tripped over the dog."

As I was getting his information, he kept holding the phone away to tell his wife: "Grouille pas plus qu'y faut, là!" Which was adorable. It sounded like she kept trying to get up, and he was exhorting her to stay still, but "grouiller" is a very particular kind of verb, which I'd never heard used in that particular context.

Anyway, it all worked out. I got them an ambulance and first responders, and all was well.

The other really cool and unusual thing about New Brunswick and the areas around there are the incredible tides, but alas I didn't get to witness any of them first hand this time around. Next time I will go and blog extensively about them!