More on kittens, and laser pointers

My wife was kitten-sitting. Every day while her cousin was away she went over to her house and fed the kittens, a male kitten and a female kitten. Usually Gamma went with her and sometimes Beta and once I did.
Cute little guys.
When we left, they kept trying to leave with us. So I did the laser pointer thing, you know, first you shine it on the kitten (always keep away from eyes, of course) and say, “Yargh! Sniper!” and then you let them chase the dot around for a while, luring them further and further away until they’re over in the next room going, Shit, where’d the dot go? And you’re outside locking the door.
“Why,” my wife asked me, “do you carry a laser pointer?”
“In case of kittens,” I said.

On kittens, and laser pointers

I went out onto the stoop. It was still dark and the air was cold and full of autumn.
I wondered where summer had gone so suddenly.
Depression flooded me like I was a Coke bottle on the conveyor belt in a bottling plant, and it was Coke.
Classic Coke.
Like that.
It took me by surprise, because it had been so long.

Ehn and depressed are closer in my universe than I had realized.
Thin membrane yadda yadda.
Anyway, darkness, suddenly.

    Darkness: Yo, dude. Despair, despair, despair. Suicide, suicide, suicide.
    Me: Hello darkness, my old friend.
    Darkness: [sputtering] Gah! I… Gah, that song! I… I…
    Me: Heh.

Alpha and Gamma and I went for a walk along the creek last night. That always helps.
My dad used to take off for long walks at night when he was in, what, his forties.
I used to wonder what the hell he was doing. In bed, staring at the darkness, I distracted myself with other thoughts to avoid wondering if he were up to No Good.
Thoughts of, I dunno, the Playmate of the Month or something.

    Name: Mig
    Age: 49
    Measurements: 100-100-100 or something.
    Likes: Long walks in the dark, kittens and laser pointers.

I had planned another walk along the creek this morning, but it was too dark and I couldn’t be arsed.
Watching the sun come up, though, is a good thing, and that neighbor lady who gets dressed with the light on*; and listening to the traffic grow in volume.

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Grunion payday

I saw a list of the 100 most beautiful words in the English language somewhere recently. Some were nice, some seemed like subjective choices that I would not agree with. Based either on sound, meaning or both, or something else, here are a few of mine, off the top of my head. I reserve the right to add more.

  • grunion
  • payday
  • vacation
  • hammock
  • humus
  • mucus
  • abide
  • tortoise
  • apocaplectic
  • handcuff

What are yours? (Include English translation if in another language, please).

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Come out to the woodpile

Random writing prompt:

    Write a story about
    the quiet
    that went
    into the cellar.

Thx anyway. Although, cellar.
It’s been damp, so the cellar doors are really hard to open. It got easier after I figured out my wife locked them before she left with the kids.
They come back tomorrow. I was supposed to go with them, but I have to do some entirely inane work at the office tomorrow, for an hour, that I am not good at and which someone else could easily do, so bye 3-day weekend, catch you later.
I did some house cleaning today to kill time. I trimmed some bushes yesterday, until I got scared of ticks and stopped. Now I have a pile of foliage I had planned to run through the shredder today but then it rained and, it being an electric shredder, I put it off, especially in view of my recent spate of technical difficulties.
The car broke down again, a few days ago, but I was driving around today and it ran okay.
I was researching hobos today.
They were invented in the Civil War, for example.
And they have laws they came up with in the late 1800s.
Also, this is the difference between hobos, tramps and bums: hobos travel around, and will work. Tramps just travel around, and bums are too slack to even travel.
Also, there may or may not be a hobo mafia, depending on whom you ask.
It’s time for a hobo FBI.


I took a taxi to the mechanic after work yesterday to pick up my car.
“I’m here to pick up my car,” I said.
“Okay, here,” the man said, and handed me the key.

No signature, no nothing.

I got in and drove to my next appointment.

They had looked at my car, he told me, and found nothing, which is among the things still covered under my guarantee.

Driving home on the freeway, though, I found myself sticking to the right lane, and keeping an eye out for emergency turn-outs etc.

On happiness

My car just broke down on my way to bring my broken iBook to an Apple dealer.