Crunchy Thoughts

The thoughts are crunchier here.

Busy Monday Had I

I was on the hunt today. All week for the work website, I was planning this week’s Tip of the Week to be about soil testing, ’cause more of you crazies should do one before you go sticking plants willy-nilly into the ground. Didn’t write it up last Friday, ’cause hey, I already knew what the subject was gonna be, and that’s the hardest thing for me to do, sometimes. Of course, this Monday morning (just like last Monday morning, actually), the internet service was down at work. Wasn’t back up ’till after lunch, when I was finally able to fish out the information I needed. I wound up going downtown to the DeKalb County Extension Agent’s office near the courthouse, walking down the street in my high heels. I got about fifty testing kits and assorted literature from them, for free. The Government worked for me today! I’m walking back past the courthouse, arms loaded with papers and insta-fold boxes, and I think, “I sure do put in a lot of work for the Tip of the Week.” But it’s fun; I like the research, and the writing, too, oddly enough. That’s why you should go read it, dammit. Don’t let my work be in vain. I walked two blocks in high heels for this free tip I’m givin’ you!

For a smaller town in Alabama, one would think Fort Payne wouldn’t crash and burn if the power went out city-wide. Yep, one would think. Power went out here at the office at about lunchtime. That, plus the continued absense of the internet, was making me think someone did not want me to work today. So I head home for lunch, and realize, when I get to the light, that the power must be out everywhere; the light isn’t working. Now, according to Alabama law, in times of power outages, all intersections w/ lights become four-way stops. And, also according to Alabama law, the vehicle that gets to go first is always the horse and cairrage. No joke here; this is true. However, since there were no horse and cairrages to be found in the vicinity, I suppose everyone else thought, all at once, “No horse and cairrage? Then it’s MY turn!” Cars were going through the intersections, not even slowing down, assuming they had the right of way, because if the lights were on, surely they would have the green signal. Four-way stops apparently mean nothing to these people. I almost got hit twice, while trying to left turn onto a four way highway full of idiots.

I had another idiot behind me on my way back from lunch. The city had calmed down, now that the power was back on (thank God). However, there was this one person who seemed to still harbour some anger leftover from that lunch hour fiasco, and they were behind me, irritated that I would dare go only five miles over the speed limit, and there was nowhere that they could pass. How dare I commit such an atrocity towards them? She (I think it was a she) was riding my ass all the way to the office. That unnerves me, and I let her know it. Knowing my office was coming up, I waited ’till the last second to suddenly slow down, and put on my signal, and turn. Woohoohoo, she did not like that. Honked at me and gave me the finger, she did. I showed her mine (though I don’t think she saw it), and laughed all the way to my desk. God forbid she gets to where she’s going five minutes later than she would have had I not been in her way. Bitch.

Now the cat poop thing that I so briefly mentioned in my last post. I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this, but I am in the process (long, messy, drawn-out process) of toliet-training Renton, the Litter-Flinger Extrordinaire. For a while, his litter box has been on the toliet, and at the beginning of last weekend, we got to the part where you remove the litter box completely and cover the toliet bowl (under the seat) with cling wrap and add a bit of litter to it. Big step, probably most strategic step of the entire nasty process. After doing this on Friday morning, Renton did not pee or poop until Saturday night. Got a bladder of steel, he has. He was probably irritated at me. But he finally did pee, in the litter that was on the plastic wrap that was covering the bowl. Hey, that reminds me of that song, “Leaf of the twig, and the twig on the branch, and the branch on the tree, and the tree in the hole, and the hole in the ground, and the green grass grew all around all around, and the green grass grew all around” except it goes “Pee in the cat and the cat on the seat and the seat on the litter and the litter on the plastic wrap and the plastic wrap on the water and the water in the toliet and the hot pee swished all around all around and the hot pee swished all around!” Ha ha. Anyway, Steven and I were so happy that he peed on the toliet that we didn’t even care that he had figured out how to open up the cabinet doors, and was in one. Those doors are taped now. . .

And the booby-trap comment that I made yesterday. This one also concerns Renton. I think Steven and I should patent this idea. See, Renton has decided it’s great fun to get on the counters and see what he can knock off. Cat food, coke cans, antique bird pepper shakers. . .and I’m thinking that’s gotta stop. But he’s clever enough to know not to get on the counters when I’m there, but he can do it when I’m nowhere to be found, no problem. So on Friday night Steven and I are lamenting over this problem. After using some clear packaging tape (the good stuff) to secure that plastic wrap to the toliet, we think that the tape might have more uses. We try laying a long piece of tape along the edge of the counter, folded over on itself, so maybe the stickiness would deter Renton. Nope, he hopped right over it. Damn. Then we start making jokes about how funny it would be to leave huge pieces of tape sticky end up and he’d get tape all over his little self, head to toe, like a mummy. We crack up laughing, then stop, and go “hmmm. . .” We change the ‘huge pieces of tape’ to smaller, 1″ square versions, which we painstakingly scatter on the bathroom and kitchen counters. We then leave Renton be, and go to get ready for bed.

It didn’t take five minutes. We hear a kitty collar bell ring with the effort of Renton jumping up, then, at the tacky sounds of tape attacking a cat, the bell rings again as Renton scrambles down and settles outside my door; tape-like sounds again as Renton struggles to get these little invisible attackers off of his fur. Laughing, Steven and I remove the rest of the tape off of him, and set up new tape where the previous ones had served their purpose (he had attracted all but four of the little wonders). I’ve had the tape bits up for four days now, and sometimes there will be a place where the tape is missing, but Renton sure hasn’t wanted to stay on the counters long enough to do any damage. I figure maybe another week of tape everywhere, and he should have the idea. My antique bird salt shaker is singing for joy.

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