She.
We’ve gotten desperate with Tanner, who has maintained a state of screaming (thank goodness few blows landed) war with Sei and Shu. And any time we go into the kitchen we get Tanner howling on the stairs. If Jane moves at night—he hears, and starts howling. After months and months and months of trying…
My last theory was—female kitten to keep the old guy company down there. The pound had only older cats. The feed store had little black kittens, one female.
She is a Siamese-y type, elegant, long-legged, and gifted with a mighty purr. She is inky black all the way to the skin, except a hazy locket and white tufts in her ears, so I’m betting a Siamese mama, POSSIBLY a snowshoe Siamese, and a random Romeo—hard to guess from which side of the blanket the ear tufts come.
She has no fear—well, her little heart beats hard when I bring her near Tanner, but she’s quiet about it; and I deliberately hold her while petting him. He’s gotten from foul-mouthed yowl to a hiss to a huh! well… And her purr has a lot of do with it. Shu isn’t keen on her on first meeting; but Sei is, well, stoic about it, and trying to be polite.
She’s 8 weeks old. She hasn’t told us her name yet. But we’re listening. Her joking name is Nefernefernefer, Egyptian for beautiful, 3x. And what we swore about a fourth kitty in the household.
Today we hope to get some pictures.
Eegad. Ye gads and little fishes — It is after midnight, and I think that’s the neighbor upstairs, _vacuuming_ . Or something that sounds like vacuuming. Being neat and clean is good. But at midnight? — I have only moved boxes around once, in the middle of the night, after something fell, due to the cats jumping on things, while here. Otherwise, I have always figured that after 10pm up to around 7 or 8am should be free of any disturbing noise from me, out of courtesy for others. I have been known to watch movies or TV, though. And goodness knows, people around here are fairly often active outside, including kids, past 10pm, even into the wee hours of the night / morning. So OK, cultural thing or work hours or the heat or partying.
Vacuuming at midnight? Okie-dokie. Just…unexpected. I’m awake anyway, so I’m not truey too bothered. Hope they finish soon. — I don’t _think_ that’s remodeling or some kind of cooking prep, like a mixer. Seems like vacuuming.
OK, so my neighbors probably think I’m really weird too. And I’m sure they find Curry’s meowing really super annoying. So, mitigating circumstances.
Shrugs. — I guess I should be glad they want to keep clean and neat. — It’s not arguing, fighting hitting. Nobody’s drunk or high and acting up. It’s not, uh, mating habits or the like. So…I suppose on the whole, I’ll call it OK. Just…I am surprised.
Getting ready for Halloween and Thanksgiving? Visitors arriving or have departed? I dunno. Oh well, what the heck, could be much worse. Call it a win. LOL.
The very few times I’ve used a vacuum late in the evening have been on finding a spider in my bedroom when I was going to bed or once when I woke in the night to go to the bathroom.
I’m afraid of them (I know it’s irrational, a leftover phobia from being scared by deadly ones in Australia as a kid, but it still is a fact of my life), definitely cannot sleep with one in the bedroom, and if they’re bigger than tiny I can’t make myself approach them near enough to catch them under a mug to put outside. Hence the vacuum.
That’s not a phobia; it’s a “life skill” in the Land of Oz! From all the documentaries and such I’ve seen it seems an unusually high proportion of the snakes are venomous, and although all spiders are, Oz has an unuusal number that are deadly, in comparison to North America. And that’s not to mention the box jelly or the blue-ringed octopus! “Oz, the Poisoner’s Paradise”?
Seems reasonable. I don’t like bugs either. I’m not phobic, but, oh, I don’t like ’em. A few beneficial “bugs” get a free pass, but otherwise, no, they belong outside, not inside.
I’m awake. That’s about all I can say for it. I got one to two hour snatches of sleep last night until about 6:30am this morning. Between me and the cats and the neighbors’ weirdness, whew, I’m not worth much today. Slept very late, until 10:30am, unplanned and surprisingly.
Oh, I’m up, I’m functional, halfway; got stuff to do, but…ugh.
On the plus side, it did turn chilly and damp last night and is supposed to be cool to cold today and tonight, and gradually warm up back to (oh, sigh) 80’s thereafter. For freakin’ November. (Be it noted, that isn’t unheard of for here, but 70’s or 60’s would be more normal, and lows in the 40’s, sometimes highs there, would also be more normal for late fall and into winter here. Our weather varies a lot in winter. We can have 70’s t Christmastime, but I have also seen down into the mid to low teens, one or two years, in December and January, here.) But yes, we are seeing the effects of global warming and climate change here, more plainly than, say, Washington, D.C. Ahem. (Also, the Weather Channel’s website keeps “forgetting” my cookie and therefore my location, which then periodically resets to WDC instead of Houston. Rather disconcerting at times, haha.)
So…I get a sort of R&R day without intending to or wanting to. A little stuff around the apt., and I will try writing or reading or both. My eyes are very tired too. I may go for an audiobook instead.My Mac’s spellchecker, both the system-wide one used for the browser, and the one built into the word processor (not from Apple) both are bad at science fiction words and some perfectly fine and correct English words, such as crewmate. (It substitutes crewman.) An honest hani crewwoman or crewwomen, it also wants to change to crewmen. Uh, I guess it has gender or misogyny issues. One is certain the hani women would take a dim view of this, and the crewmen, rare as they are, would likely not be impressed either, for their own reasons. Heh.
It has far more trouble when I type perfectly good French or Spanish, either entire sentences or words mixed in with English or vice-versa. I still find this aggravating, but it’s a difficult problem, programmatically.
I have tried, many times, to turn off the system-wide spellchecker, such as for the browser. It turns itself back on periodically, so I have learned to grin and bear it.
However, I intend to teach it the words cremate, crewwoman / crewwomen, and I find myself perplexed, having noticed that bunkmate, housemate, and roommate, and shipmate, all have no spaces, but cabin mate does. English is so very odd about finicky little details, even to a native speaker who’s pretty good at the rules.
—–
Curry got some extensive petting last night. I was in a pensive mood, so tired out emotionally and physically, I just needed a chance to sit down and relax, let my guard down, and do nothing but spend time with them. — This helped me some, and helped (maybe) work things out a little. — It also helped Curry some, I think. It seems he’s been craving attention, and my drawing back from him after his extremes of misbehavior may have contributed to his calling, lonesomeness, and he has wanted attention, petting, friendship. I don’t think he and Goober interact too much, due to his attitude, but they may have warmed a tiny bit. (He and Goober will sit or sleep near each other but not, so far as I have seen, together. Only once have I seen any possibility of thinking of grooming each other.) So last night, Curry got some “unarmed” petting from me, as if we’d never had a couple of bad incidents of his anger directed at me. I was still paying attention, in case he suddenly shifted moods, but he did fine, basked in the affection, and it was almost like normal, with this half-feral, half-social, mostly-grown tomcat, who’s showing real signs of the “bulked-up” burly build that adult male cats get. He’s rather short and stout, not as much as Smokey was, but still smallish, though he’s still growing. He’s going to be physically impressive, as cats go, whether he ends up full-sized or a bit smaller than average. And this very male so-and-so, such a mix now of that sweet side and that feral side, was totally happy for me to pet him and talk to him and act as though nothing ever happened. And I didn’t know how to take this: I can’t really let myself discount that feral side, now that he has, a few times, acted out, nipped, clawed, peed, pooped, when angry. But I also don’t want to hold a grudge against him and therefore be as guilty as him, about this. He is a cat, I’m a human, we both act according to how we are built, wired, by nature. In general, I have always had a built-in and learned exception for cats and dogs, that they are who and what they are, and therefore, don’t blame them, tolerate the mistakes, don’t begrudge them, love them and forgive them, it’s who they are and part of what makes their kind special. — And I found myself last night asking myself if I had forgotten this and was holding it against Curry unfairly, because of his serious and aggressive misbehavior. I had to ask myself, well, suppose he was a big farm animal, a bull or a stallion (uh, hmm, should I say stud or stallion, for an unguided, entire male horse?). As a cat, or if he were a dog, otherwise, I would probably accept this. But my own defensive and aggressive tendencies, both as an adult male and as an independent person and a head-of-household, as someone who’s had to deal with overly argumentative, aggressive, or hostile people’s nonsense, directed at me and mine — I have become more prone to keep my guard up and lose tolerance for certain things, and maybe hold that too long, or permanently. (My mom’s temper was more quick and, once crossed, she tended to hold it longer or hold a grudge sometimes, while for people she liked and loved, it was more quickly forgotten, sometimes or always. My dad’s temper was very slow to get angry, but once he was, he’d resolve things and generally that was it. He could, however, either be fine with people and things, or else he might thereafter not put up with that. But mostly, my dad was mild-tempered, fair and even-handed about things. As a kid, I was always very sensitive, too sensitive emotionally, and didn’t always know the difference between friendly teasing versus true bullying, meanness. As I grew up, I did learn and do better. I was more on my dad’s side of temperament. As I got older, into my late teens and young adulthood, I was more of a mix of their two tempers, still leaning towards my dad’s side of that. Once on my own and as a caregiver, oh, I had to act and react for myself and my grandmother’s sake, including with or toward her when she’d act up or act/speak because she didn’t know or understand anymore what was truly going on, when before she would’ve known herself and wouldn’t have disagreed and would’ve been likely appalled at her later self for that. So I grew more combative by necessity, but I had trouble knowing when and how to let out that anger in an effective way. It was nearly always appropriate, with one or two exceptions, but I’ve never felt really experienced in handling my temper. It’s always felt sort of off, as if I’m so new at handling it that I don’t always deal with things like I’d want to, or as effectively, such was when having to argue with people for something.)
So, last night, there I was, wondering if I’d unfairly been withholding attention / affection from Curry, because I was holding a grudge about his aggressive misbehavior, the incidents of peeing and pooping on the bed, and the two incidents of nipping and clawing at me out of anger. I know better than to let myself be afraid or show that. Er, and hey, I’m bigger than he is, though not a fighter by nature; still, I know that I have the advantage over him, long-term, and although he’s very strongly equipped as a hunting animal, well, I’m also built as an “intelligent hunting ape,” even if, hah, that intelligence is debatable, species-wide or individually, heh. Uh, and yeah, I may not be an alpha male by nature, but I am still male, and aware that there are instincts and behavior there, and built-in signals and such, which affect how I act and feel and think. I’m prone to that, as much as I’d like to think I’m civilized and above that. I am aware of my dark side as well as my light side. I know that’s there, I don’t necessarily like it, but like all of us, I have to deal with that. So anyway, I know that I can be temperamental, I can be aggressive, all the. I know that side of myself, from my mom and dad, from myself. So I know that can be there toward others, I’ve had to use that when facing people out to cause trouble, and so, well, have I let that color my dealings with a misbehaving, inexperienced, almost-adult male tomcat? One who has a sweet, loving side to him, as well as a feral side that is quick to act, because he has never known anything else until now?
Oh. Well, maybe. So I had to sit there and think this over, while petting him , talking to him, as if nothing had changed between us. And I don’t know what to think, whether I am wise to still be wary, or whether I have been withholding affection and forgiveness because he’d crossed me and my own temper was bared, and my own male aggressive side got into it. And territory; I mean, y’know, him peeing and pooping on my bed a few weeks ago now, that was territorial and intentional and spiteful, to punish for him not getting what he wanted. And hmm, I can be territorial too. That’s m bed, you don’t do that to me or my bed, where I sleep. And darn it, cat, you shouldn’t do that since that’s where you were welcome to sleep too, up until then. You sure did ruin a good deal for yourself there, kitty. (No, I’m not going to make the mistake again of relenting on the ban. He still can’t be in the bedroom or sleep on the bed. Not after repetition of the behavior several times.)
So…I still have to find him a permanent home, I guess. I am mulling over my reactions and I’ve decided to be more friendly and let bygones be bygones, but also to be still aware and mindful, and not let him act out aggressively toward me, if he tries to gain. But we haven’t had any incidents, other than some fussing for the week after that. He has been mild, maybe contrite, maybe he has learned, in the last week or so. So things are better between us, and I’m glad for that. But I still feel like I have a dilemma on what to do for him, about him.
I’m letting it be, as if we are back to normal, besides the bedroom ban. I am also on guard, but trying to be relaxed and easygoing with him. I want, if possible, for him (and me?) to understand and really “get it” that we can go on from that and be friends. I wonder if he or I either one really do get that It seems like he has gone on, forgiven me. I think now I’ve forgiven him. I was surprised and not happy with myself, to see that maybe I was remiss in not giving him the full affection he needed. Maybe that was necessary to get the message across, and I’m second-guessing myself unfairly. — I hate second-guessing and over-analyzing. I always feel like I end up not knowing the answer, what I really think and feel on a matter, when I get like that.
I still like and love the little so-and-so. I see a nearly full-grown cat with a sweet, loving side who craves affection and food and other things, but has a feral side, will shoot first and ask questions later, and who really, truly, wants outside and all that goes with it (such as a lady-love, or, ah, a great many lady-loves, and territory to hunt, and freedom, and all such things as matter to cat-kind and adult male tomcats). And hmm, I was reminded that I also want to be able to go and do everything I want, but have limits I chafe at. I’d love to be able to hop in my car and go anywhere and do anything I want, but I can never do that, can never see to drive, have never had a car, and so on. So…OK, kitty, we have something in common there. (One slight difference, I prefer the male of the species and I’m very sure he prefers the females. Heh. Note he hasn’t tried anything with Goober at all. Note also, whatever Goober’s preferences on the matter, he doesn’t like anyone trying to make him do something if he doesn’t want to. Smokey’s attempts at dominance or amorousness, whichever they were, Goober always objected to, refused. He’s non-assertive, but will defend himself if needed, if pushed hard enough, he’ll push back, as if he can’t believe he has to, fed up with it, until, and only until, he gets his point across. And then he goes right back to being non-assertive. Bless his fuzzy little head.)
So…I have a certain young feline who has had severe misbehavior, we had a falling out, and now we have had one and now two meetings of the minds, somehow, I think, and now a possible rapprochement. I’d told him earlier, I wanted us to be friends, not enemies, and I didn’t like this, remaining wary and divided, when I’d rather we be friends and trustworthy again. He’s still banned from the bedroom, I’m still going to be alert in case he acts aggressively. I am also going to try not to “look for it,” so as not to cause it. (OK, that sounds superstitious, but I’ve noticed sometimes things seem to happen that way, we bring things on ourselves or others act toward us because of their reading of our signals. Or something like that.)
So…heck, I still wish we could be a good team of three, what I’d wanted and thought I was getting, taking in a stray cat who wanted food and wanted petting the way he did. But he wants his freedom, Outside!, still. — So I still have to find a home for him.
But I’m trying the friendly approach again, because, well, I’m built that way, I guess. Hoping maybe his friendly side will build up some more, maybe undo some of that feral side, before I can find him a new home.
I still wish he could stay, but I still feel that isn’t what he really wants. I have been asking myself what he truly wants and if I’m being selfish in wanting to give him away, or being selfish in wanting to keep him. That second-guessing and third-guessing and maybe fourth, I am really not doing well with.
Dang it, I took responsibility. I got involved. I wanted this and thought I was doing a good thing for all three of us. Yet somehow, it hasn’t worked out that way, and I dropped the ball this week, out of frustration and, I guess, feeling defeated. And he needs a better solution than this, I think. I want do to what’s right, and I’m having trouble seeing if him staying or him going is the right thing to do. It’s one or the other, it cannot be both. I’m confounded. I want what’s best for him. I’m still leaning toward he needs a home elsewhere, a chance to be outside. So that’s what I’m going with.
But for a while yet, he is still here, he’s part of the crew or family , so to speak, and maybe I can help him see humans as good to him, by doing so. What gets me is, I hope if and when I give him away to a new home, he will love that new home and any people so much, he will be truly happy. Am I selfish to worry that he might miss me and want back? I want him to be happy there. I would like him to remember me well, but not to have to wish he could be back here instead, to miss the life he could have had here.
I think I have learned my lessons too, regarding Smokey. This has had me rethinking how I (mis)handled that, or how I was right and wrong both, in how I dealt with him. I hope and pray that if he was given a new home instead of put down, that he is happy there and doesn’t miss what he had here. I still feel that I let him down in not making certain I found a home for him, instead of putting him in the carrier to be picked up. I. still feel bad about that. I hope he was adopted out. I will never know in this lifetime what happened. I regret that I didn’t do better. And I now wonder if I was letting my own temper interfere with him and me getting over our problems, so his behavior could improve, or whether it was just going to be that way, and I was right to give him up.
Command decision, I guess. As an independent person and head of what passes for a family unit, a human and a cat or two.
Phooey, I’m rambling now. I just…wanted things to be better is alll.
So I wat Curry to have what’s right for him, truly, and not just what I want. I think he needs a new home. But I am still torn between, which is more right, for him to stay or for him to go? I wish I knew for certain. I am still leaning toward, he wants and needs a home where he can be outside, to be truly happy. I hope that’s the right decision.
He is still here, and will be until Monday, when I resume calling to find him a home. Gods be feathered, this is taking forever, but this week is on me, not anyone else, as I dropped the ball on things. So…well, the little guy is here.
There is probably story material in this, but I’m too involved at the moment to see past it.\\I didn’t intend to go on a rant or a ramble. Just..l.I wish I had someone to talk things over with who would “get me” instead of brushing it off and not understanding. It was good though, to get to talk with the vet and staff, who at least understand what it’s like to love pets, to have difficult decisions to make regarding them, and to love cats (or other animals) for who and what they are, and not regard that as weird. — That one friend loves dogs but is allergic to cats, and doesn’t seem to get cats. The other friend doesn’t seem to be an animal person, but was willing to give us a ride back and forth…once he could be motivated enough after weeks, to do so.
So…dnag, I at least have these two, and friends over the internet, separated by hundreds and thousands of miles, never met in person before, but still…some basis for a friendship, acquaintance, association, something like that. Pen pals, I guess would be the pre-technological analogy.
Nuts, I’m just needing to vent, maybe. I don’t know if any of this makes sense to anyone else, and I wish someone around here cared enough to be a friend to listen and help. — Anway, on to do whatever I’m going to do today besides natter and grumble.
There are only 2 types of bugs I will catch ‘by hand’, praying mantises and the large water bugs. I like the mantises, and the giant water bugs (I won’t call them roaches) make too big a mess to squish, so I grab them gently and throw them outside. Mantises are beneficial bugs, so I put them out of harm’s way.
Oh, kitty. Tonight, Goober wanted in and out, in and out of the bedroom. Attention? Food? I’d fed them earlier, but off-schedule. I didn’t think he was really hungry, but he was sure wanting something. Rather than put out more moist food, I topped off their dry food, thinking that would do it. Both cats were, “Meh. So what?” and Curry is not usually like that. It has been a rare new thing when he’s been full enough not to want to eat everything in sight. So, huh.
I went back to what I was doing. A few minutes later, Curry went into his usual evening chorus. But this time, plaintive, woebegone. Huh. I went to see what was going on. The usual? But no, Goober was in one spot, grooming. Curry hopped up in his usual, “Waiting on the corner for you to feed me or give me attention,” spot. Attention?
Oh my. Happy kitty. Darn cat flops down, curls up and over into that 3/4 belly up curled up positing they get when very happy. And…when I petted him, he put his head / chin on my hand and…plainly intended to stay that way. I’m a sucker for that, I guess. I couldn’t get up and go. So I stayed and petted the two characters, and then just let him sleep on my hand for however long this was. A while, twenty minutes, maybe.
Well, dang, kitty. Told him if we could still be friends, if he really wants a place here, I would still want that. Apparently, he and I are OK again. — I don’t know if this means he’s truly had a change of heart and now wants a home here, or what. But we’ll see how the weekend goes. I’ll hope we do better. — No, I’m not prepared to let him back in the bedroom. Definitely not. But I found myself very much wishing the awful old used couch was out of here and I could have the new futon I’ve thought of getting. I was wishing for that so I could sleep in there, with the chance to have them both sleep with me.
Uh, which, my more rational brain immediately said, Dude, if he pees or poops there…. But maybe he’d see that as a different setting. (Methinks my brain is trying to bargain and using wishful thinking there.)
I’m not really planning to get out my sleeping bag and sleep on the living room floor tonight either. It is notably not soft and cozy.
It’s supposed to be cold tonight and into tomorrow, before warming again.
Well, I don’t know what we’re doing, but Curry’s doing better and I’m inclined to let bygones be bygones…while still being mindful of past misbehavior, to keep myself safe.
So I guess we’ll see. Part of me is hoping this means it’ll work out to a happily ever after. My more…cynical? jaded?…self says, he still needs a new home. — He also still needs to be neutered and have that blankety-blank bb-pellet removed. — So, well, I’m conflicted over what I should do, which one is the right course for us. But for this weekend, he’s a welcome guest and cremate again. Maybe-just-maybe he has mellowed, learned from it? Maybe I have too? I’m confounded and I guess I’m soft-hearted and not decisive enough in some ways. — But OK, kitty, I’m an old softie for that. You like me enough to sleep on my hand as if we never had any fights? Well…. Frell, all right, then, little buddy. I can be OK with that. I guess we’ll see how it goes. And you are one high-maintenance feline, you know that? But maybe it’s worth all the fuss, if there’s a good outcome for him and for us. Just not sure which choice that is, and it’s a choice I have to make myself, I know that too. Definitely a different sort of cat here.
Any prayers or kind thoughts towards the best outcome for Curry would be appreciated. I want it to be what he needs and wants most, and not just what I want. I still find myself wishing he could stay, but that is probably wishful thinking and selfish. So…good thoughts for him, please. I’m still trying to get myself to be OK with one course or the other, and neither one really suits me…because part of me still wants him here, and another part of me thinks he most wants outside, as much as he may like me..
Next time you go to your storage unit, if you have a blanket that is too ‘vintage’ to use as such, bring it back and toss it over the couch. It will give the sitters some protection if your couch has been kitty-bombed and is much easier to clean than the couch cushions. Doubly so if you eventually get your new futon. Our old couch (and the new one) have had throws over them for several years, which have protected them from all kinds of feline insults.
Both Junior and Zorro are perma-banned from the bedroom, because at least one of them pooped on the bed, repeatedly. It didn’t make it past the top sheet, but — no.
Our Cat, Max, is banned from our master bedroom as well. He kept marking my clothing as his personal property, like Cat on Red Dwarf. Yeah, he’s banned for life!
https://www.bbc.com/future/article/20191024-why-do-we-think-cats-are-unfriendly
I do wonder if using their own non-verbals on them would work.
Interesting, Tommie!
I knew my cats liked drinking ‘found’ water, from vases and birdbaths and such, better than out of their drinking bowls; but didn’t know they prefered their food and water in different places.
We always figured they like their water with more flavor. (Aging may improve it.)
My sis keeps a beaker of water on the vanity for one of hers – he likes it there, but he’ll drink from the bowl in the kitchen also.
I believe cats prefer water that smells less of chlorine, usually a more persistent chlorine compound of some sort. So, the older the water the better perhaps, though they might like still bottled water. The experiment might be interesting.
A friend’s cats don’t drink out of the automatically filtering watering bowl, they want to drink out of the running stream of water. Perhaps it tastes fresher or is more aerated, or perhaps it’s the old rule of thumb that running water is safer than still water.
My father was taught that 10-15m of splashing stream guaranteed safe water. Maybe he got that from his Navy days.
On cat scruffs, below, if you pick up a small kitten by the scruff, they’ll just hang there quiet and still. It’s how momcats move their kits, of course. You can’t pick up a bigger cat that way, but it seems to me gently pulling on their scruff calms some cats down.
I don’t know if this was kosher or not, but when our first street kitten, Snowball’s Chance (aka Snow or Shnoogs) misbehaved, DH’s solution was to grab her by the scruff of the neck and leap onto the bed, pinning her in place but carefully avoiding doing more than bouncing her a little, then hiss loudly at her. That seems to have gotten the point across; we only had to do that for a very few bad habits.
Sounds very smart to me.
I once had an acquaintance with a Queensland Heeler. They aren’t an entirely civilized breed. I do believe they have a bit of dingo in them. Anyway, when I visited once, it wasn’t at all happy with my presence in “his” territory, and wouldn’t quit growling after being told a few times. The next time, Mikel grabbed him, threw him on his back, exposed belly, knelt over him, knees on either side, had hands on both sides of his neck, and was loudly growling at him–everything a wild dog would understand. First dog owner I’d met who understood dog behavior that well.
Gah! Several times today, the Endless Meow. Food? Attention? Nay! Meow-ow-ow!
He did this at midnight and one a.m. also, at least. — I am surprised the neighbors haven’t all knocked, beaten the door down, to either stop the noise or check to make sure all is well with the human owner. Ah, but no such thing has happened. Not sure whether to be glad or not, on that account. :-/
But OK, kitty, I get it, you’re not happy. Monday will bring renewed efforts to find him a new home. He has a sweet side, yes. His feral side has been better lately. But this… My nerves are shot, and it’s not even noon yet.
This seems like it’s more than the urge to go out, find his true lady-love (or several) and carve out a territory for himself. So this seems like it’s more than, ah, neutering would fix. This is more like wanderlust on a grand scale. And heck, kitty, I like you, you like getting attention, you like good food, regular meals, but…. Cat doth not live by chow alone? Something like that, writ large.
It is not truly endless. There are barrages in which he meows ceaselessly. Then he’s quiet a little while. Then on again. Nothing’s wrong except he wants Outside, Outside!
I am (thankfully) over the temptation to open the door, let him go out, and let that be all. He needs a home outside, but in a setting where he has a chance at a decent outdoor life. Letting him out here would only condemn him to what he had before, which, there is no future in that. He needs a good home, but he truly wants it to be outside.
OK, kitty, be patient, we’ve still gotta work on that. It may take days to get him a place, someone who will pick him up and repatriate him. That’s a sticking point.
An otherwise good cat with a sweet side but also a wild, urgent side, is going to have to have a home elsewhere, for his own peace of mind and mine. The happy home with him as a third member is not going to be. Dang it all. I want something good for him. I’m sorry he doesn’t want it to be here. But I’ve got to resolve this for him.
Kitty, I am surprised you haven’t made your fool self hoarse by now. Sheesh. Gonna miss you, even so. But at least I’ll know I’ve tried my best and he wanted somewhere else. Just…dang.
Feed curry peanut butter? ;>
Works for dogs 🙂
:laughs: Oh, if only it were that easy! I don’t _think_ that’d work for cats…. If he goes into it again, I may be tempted to try it. He would, of course, then be a Peanut Curry.
Although Goober is (almost always) quiet enough not to need this, a Goober Peanut….. Hahaha.
Minor but needed household cleaning and changing sheets and bedspread happened this morning, and took longer than expected. Between a certain vociferous feline and certain neighbors up late (with music / video gaming to match) I am shorter on sleep than usual. I am perennially off-kilter and short on sleep lately. Much of this is just me, plus the cat, plus the neighbors. I can’t be too upset with the neighbors; it’s rarely out of hand, though it can get late at night. Not any one particular set of neighbors either. I’m not too bothered, but it can keep me awake or wake me up at times.
Lately, I’m getting two hour stretches of sleep, sometimes three or four at night, and not really any better if I strain a point and try to sleep during the day or evening, which I am trying to keep from doing.
Meh. — But hey, there’s slight progress. I am reminding myself I’m chipping away at things, even if it doesn’t always show much. With the sheets in the wash and the bedspread due next, that leaves, aha, glory be!, just two loads of clothes to wash, and I will be blessedly caught up with all laundry. Er, except I will rewash anything soured that’s still drying. Then I’ll be, OMG, entirely caught up, miracle to behold!
If I could get those blankety-blank no-show friends to show up, I could likely get the old used couch out, and the dryer, and I could strain a point and get the futon, so there’d be something like a reasonable place to sit which would also work as a bed, if I wanted to sleep in there. (The chance of anyone staying over is much like the limit as human h approaches zero.)
Items at the apt. offices have now been there over a solid month.
Hah, a maintenance worker has come by twice to fix the dang porch light. I think they may have replaced something last time. I only discovered this after they’d been there. Still no luck, it’s still not working. I almost feel bad for the guys doing the repairs. I will keep at it, with this noted in their favor to the management, but so that, dang it, it can be really fixed before, oh, maybe Thanksgiving? Heh. I’ve gone from annoyed to, OK, now this is just funny.
Unhappy news for me, bittersweet news for Curry. Curry is Outside. He saw his chance and took it, and I didn’t see him go, or I would’ve picked him up and took him back in as usual. As best I can figure, he got out either when I took things to the dumpster after noon, or when I checked the door between 4:30pm and 4:45pm. It was then I noticed he wasn’t there hoping for attention and supper. I spent about an hour searching the apartment and outside it. If he was still there around my apartment, which is doubtful, I missed him. So he got what he wanted, but not what is best for him at all, and I didn’t get to give him the good outcome he needed. He is very likely to get intestinal parasites again, macro- and microscopic. I guess the only real good I did was that he got his shots, got cured for a while of the g.i. trouble, and for a little while, he had a safe, warm, cool, dry place and attention, good food and clean water, and some love. I spent the time looking for him, then cleaning up, grieving the loss. I know he wanted out, wanted to be free, but I also know what he really faces out there as a stray around the apartments, and I’m saddened I couldn’t get him the home ne needed.
I will look again periodically over the next few days, but I don’t expect to see him, unless he wants me to. I wonder if I’ll see him this winter when and if it gets truly cold, or if he gets really hungry. I don’t really expect to see him, though. Poor kitty. For now, he thinks he’s got it made.
He didn’t get neutered and he still has that infernal bb-pellet in his neck. He has his collar, but not his tags, because I had those with the info packet, to give him away. If I see him, maybe there’s a chance, but this time, he’ll have to be isolated from Goober for both their health, and I’ll have to get him to some shelter that will take him. If he turns up.
I feel so bad for him. I’m feeling pretty sorry for myself too. I did all I could and it wasn’t enough, and it wasn’t what he truly wanted. I hope he’ll have a good life. I hope someone can get him to a shelter and get adopted. I’ll look from time to time for a few days.
I’ve cleaned up and have things to take to the trash in the morning. I need to mop and wash anywhere he might have left scent, to freshen up the place.
I discovered after he was gone that he’d managed to pull apart two or three slats from the living room blinds. I will have to call in to get those replaced, and there might be a fee. It doesn’t matter. I’d rather know he’s safe and healthy and getting a good home. Who knows how long it’ll take to get the blinds replaced. That’s laughable and negligible. I’m hoping that by reporting it, maybe there won’t be some big charge. No idea. But it has to be done. :-/ I tried, and a sheet will not stay up there, so meanwhile, it’s possible to see in if people look. Unavoidable, and I don’t really care, I guess.
I’m going to spend some time with Goober, who is very nonplussed, probably relieved. Just the two of us for supper tonight. Back to being a pair.
So…Monday was a bust. Trying to make the best of it. Gonna rest now and spend some time with Goober. He’ll get to be in the bedroom with no barriers now. The bed’s changed and here we are.
I wish Curry could have a better life than that. I miss the little so-and-so. He deserves better and life is unfair. And…you can do everything you know how to do, and yet someone can still not want that and want to be elsewhere, to have someone and someplace else. I am trying not to take it personally, but oh, I wish things could improve for me. In one sense, I envy Curry. He has the freedom he wants, and I’m limited.
Hug whoever you’ve got or pet ’em or both. Heck, they might love ya more. Hahah. Yeah, I should be so lucky.
Have a good night or day, folks. I hope you have someone good in your life.
You did the very best you could, but some things are not meant to be.
You may only continue to kick yourself if nothing that you did made Curry’s life better than it would have been. Partial good results do not amount to failure.
My sis has tried to tame feral cats. It usually doesn’t work, though they’re still willing to come by her patio for food. (Both of hers are adopted, and one still prefers going outside when she can, though she’s old and likes being inside more now.)
Thanks for the lift, y’all. He’s disappeared into the surroundings. No sign of him, and it’s now been two days, minus a couple of hours. It has been rainy off and on and turning chilly. We’re supposed to get down into the 40’s tonight and 40’s to 50’s for the next few nights, 50’s and 60’s and 70’s during the day, the coldest so far in the season. Sure hope there’s somewhere warm and dry he can hole up. I saw one of the other stray cats yesterday; I think the earlier-pregnant female, whose kittens would be ready to adopt now.
I have a mix of regret and relief, and I know I did what I could. At least for a year, he has his shots, and for a few weeks, he was free of internal bugs. I will be surprised if he shows up again, but if it gets too cold, he could stay overnight in the bathroom, quarantined.
I just wasn’t going to work out. I just wish I/d been able to get him a good home.
Goober has settled back into his old routine with probably some relief, spending time with me, able to sleep on the bed again at will, not having to compete with anyone so he can eat his food in peace until he’s done, etc. Sweet old cat. The contrast between his extremely homebody, courteous self and Curry’s footloose, wanderlust, my-way-or-the-highway self…big contrast. I liked Curry’s good side. I see I’ve been spoiled by having a very domestic cat around. I’ve been reminded of the half-feral mama cat at the home where I grew up, whom I could not get into the carrier when we moved. She had been with us for years, but she darted off into the fields and woods, no chance she’d be back. The area was turned into a business park, completely paved over, just like the old 60’s song. I knew then, as a mid-teen, it was what she wanted and there’d be no changing it. With Curry, it’s the same. Poor little guy. I wonder if he’ll ever miss the taste of the life he had. Yesterday would’ve been 10 weeks.
——
I still have to get the work order in to replace the blinds and (again) fix the porch light. Couldn’t reach the office yesterday and no voicemail was available. I guess it’ll give an overly-realistic haunted house look for tomorrow night, haha.
—–
This morning, I dsicovered — evidently I threw out, by mistake, a box containing a couple of much-cherished novelty coffee mugs from my high school and college days. No way to get those designs again. As near as I can figure, I must have set them aside, boxed them in case I got to move into a house, months back. Then in a fit of cleaning up and reducing, I must have thrown the box out with others I was intending to give away and had no outlet for. Oh, so not happy with myself about that. The memories of those two mugs, all through college…. But everything is impermanent. I’m surprised they hadn’t broken in all these years.
I had thought I’d put them in one of the other kitchen cabinets. I also looked in the remaining old bookcase. Not there. Unless I somehow put them elsewhere and haven’t run across them, they’re gone. — That’s exceedingly not like me. Those had sentimental value and got used regularly. I’d wanted to use one, because it’s chilly and I’m in the mood for coffee, a rarity. (I prefer tea.) But ya can’t win ’em all. Nuts, my own dang-fool mistake. I’d thought that was one of the boxes to give away. — If they turn up, I will be amazed, but I doubt it, since I remember throwing out those boxes. It’s not really that big a deal, I’m just disappointed to lose those mementoes and the good humor of those two mugs. Also gone is the very first mug that was “mine,” that I got to pick, as a junior high kid, for a breakfast mug and later accompanying me through college and life. Nothing really outstanding about it, just an ordinary mug with a little extra style. But it too had that sentimental value.
It is very quiet today and I’m going t get a little bit done. Grocery order was placed and will arrive tomorrow. Unsure yet what I will get before Thanksgiving, but something easy to fix and tasty, comfort food.
Hey, I hope the new kitten is settling in with CJ and Jane and the cats, and I hope that’s working out for Tanner.
Goober and I are back to being a twosome, with no threesome expected. Neither humans nor cats nor dogs nor who-knows-what have arrived to add to the mix. But Goober gets some time to have me all to himself, which he is liking, and I am liking the time with him.
Curry — Back From Walkabout
Just when I’d figured he was really gone, and I’d cleaned up. — This morning, right after feeding Goober, at the door, I heard a very loud peremptory, “Meow!” which, being translated from the feline, is, “Inside! Inside!” It sounds very much like “Outside! Outside!” although perhaps the inflection / pitch tone is different. Heh.
Say, I know that voice. Should I? It’s been cold and rainy the past 2-2/3 days he’s been gone. It’s going to be colder for the next week, now forecast highs in the 50’s, lows in the low to mid 40’s, maybe done with the rain for now. So yeah, his butt might be a little too cold. And wet. And hungry.
Back in, straight to the food, “Meow!” and starts eating Goober’s food while I, silly soft-hearted Good Samaritan wannabe that I am, open another can of food and feed him. And get a spare litterbox out and set that and a water bowl up, and feed Goober more too.
M’lord Tomcat devoured two cans of cat food. Hungry so-and-so. Guess the food’s not so steady out there, huh? He went back to a handy spot to lounge, once again lord of the manor. (Little dude, that spot’s taken. It’s my manor to be lord over. I pay fealty to my liege landlord and everything.) I petted him, told him hello, had a short talk about this. He’s very pleased with himself to be back in where it’s warm and dry and there’s steady food and water. Hmm. Uh-huh. Well, OK, kitty, I can’t fault you there, and there is a genuine need not to freeze your butt off. (There’s no danger of that actually happening for a week or more, and temps will probably go back up after the cold snap. But low 40’s, I wouldn’t want to be stuck outside, hungry and cold and wet, so…. He’s got shelter, the little vagabond.
I called the vet, thinking, oh, perhaps I could prevail on them to pick him up and transfer him to that Barn Cat organization which has locations in town. But, ah, no, they don’t do that, Mr. W. Well…dang. So we discuss options. I’d called most of the list, with less than ideal results. — The SPCA might pick him up. Sure, he’s had his shots, there’s proof and his tags. But he’s feral. His chances for adoption are not great that way, and if the SPCA or city pound cannot adopt an animal out, even a healthy one…their days are numbered.
The vet’s office did give one possibility, which I had seen from among the links I’d gotten from a search. I am going to try that one, and then go through the dang list again. Sigh.
Oh, and — Once Curry had been lounging there a while, I did a rash thing: I opened that door wide and stepped out of the way and looked at him. “So, do you want Outside?”
He, being a cat, naturally did not budge. “What? Dude, it’s cold and wet out there and I was starving. I am so Inside right now! — But I might wanna be Outside later, y’know. I’m a big ol’ tomcat, and a cat who walks by himself, after all. This is a cushy setup though. Thanks for letting’ me crash here a while, human dude. You’re maybe not such a bad guy, until I want out again.”
“Uh-huh. Right, OK, kitty-cat, I gotcha. In for now.”
I put a new collar on him. He had slipped off the old one. Just as well his tags were not on it. He has a very slight cough. Hopefully nothing.
Goober is not so thrilled, though he seems to be taking it in stride, while making sure he got in the bedroom with me. So I’m now door-opener in case he needs in or out.
So…we are right back where we were, plus Curry could have been exposed to everything like before. The one difference is, he’s vaccinated and I still have some of the Metronidazole left if need be. He is very happy right now to be in and nap securely. I am now firm in my regard that he’ll only want right back out again when it suits him. And I will go with that, and if he shows back up, OK. Meanwhile, I’ll look for someplace to take him.
I called in the needed replacement for the living room blinds and the repair for the porch light again, and explained. .I was not advised of a charge for either one; I should’ve asked if there is, for the blinds, though hey, I’ve been paying a monthly pet deposit, so I kinda figure that takes care of it. And I’ve been here over 2-1/2 years, so it’s not entirely unreasonable to ask for something to be replaced. (So I think.)
Lunch is cooked and grocery delivery is due this afternoon, so all should be well. No real expectations of trick-or-treaters, though there are plenty of kids around. I didn’t go all out to buy candy.
So…huh, Curry is back and whether he’s had any permanent attitude adjustment is unlikely, I think. But OK, kitty, we’ll work on this. If you think this is a good home base, I’m OK with you hanging out here. But ultimately, yeah, you need somewhere else, kitty. I still like the charming little so-and-so, but I’m telling myself to stand fast on this. It will take a great deal more to convince me he’s had a change of heart and wants to stay. — I’m expecting around sundown, he’ll tell me he wants to go out. Halloween. He’s a brown tabby. He has a better chance than other cats. But if he wants out, I won’t try to keep him in. It’s going to be cold, though. So maybe he knows that and wants to stay in for the night. We’ll see.
Hmm, it’s been a long time since I’ve had an indoor/outdoor cat. I’m resolved to this being the case until I’ve found a home for him. — And sigh, they are not really separated. At least Goober and Curry have had their shots.
If Curry stays long enough, I’ll schedule for him to get neutered and have the bb-pellet removed. I’ll advise any shelter that he’s still unaltered, has that bb-pellet, and has his shots, with copies of his medical records plus his rabies tag available.
So…wow. — Oh, and last night, I turned on the heater. It’ll be on for a week or so. I don’t think it has cycled yet, but it should be fine.
I guess Curry got in his own version of both Trick and Treat today….
It’s Goober’s 13th “Gotaversary.” I saw that word recently from a YouTuber’s description of how they count getting a pet who arrived a mature stray. Heh. I like the word. So it’s Goober’s “Gotaversary.” (He was between 6 and 8 weeks when I got him, a lanky kitten already, and still is, elder that he is now.)
Curry is quite pleased to get some petting. For the nonce. Until he’s pleased to go Outside! again. And I now know there’s no mistaking when he wants Inside! Good golly, that was loud!
Hah. Cats. — Ker Captain Pyanfar would doubtless have her opinion on the matter, as would Ker Captain Hilfy, and na Khym and na Hallan. — I think this is better than Hermitage. He’s, call him a guest, a visiting passenger, allowed on out of the need for shelter from the weather. If only I could get him to work passage. Or better, to realize he’d be far better as crew, that he’s got a very good deal here if he’d go for it. But I think he’ll not want that. He wants his freedom more. — I do have some sympathy and understanding of his feelings on that.
Tried to raise the errant so-called friend. No luck that try. Still have to get packages from the office to my door. Sigh.
But, so … turnabout of events. Not the most original plot twist, but I won’t turn him down, either. Dang it, now I’ve gotta go down the list again and find someplace for him.
I’m bemused and amused, and yes, scoffing just a little. I am also willing to be tolerant of feline notions. I suppose if I were in his position…. Well, no, I’d want a cushy deal like this in the first place. But I’d also have some understanding of wanting to be free whenever I felt like it too.
The universe has an odd sense of humor and an odder sense of fairness or teaching life lessons, I think. Somehow, Curry and I are supposed to learn from this. I suppose I’m just as stubborn-headed as he is, just in my own way.
The little son is sacked out in that spot, quite pleased with himself for getting back in, warm and dry and fed. And I don’t think he realizes that he could have this permanently, if he’d change just a little bit on a few things.
Goober would far rather be inside with me for companionship. He’s inclined towards all the benefits of a civilized, domestic life. Heh. He’s not thrilled but he’s not inclined to object either, except to chatter at Curry when Curry was rude enough to steal his food. Goober did not, however, do any more than fuss. Bless his furry, non-assertive, gentlemanly heart.
I’m thoroughly bemused by the turn of events, but this is typical of cats. It’s been a long time since I’ve dealt with this situation, but well, OK, I’m in. It would take a lot more for me to turn my back on a cat or dog in need.
I am not taking bets on how long it will be until the porch light and blinds are fixed. It could just as easily be today or next week or several.
So… How was your day, everyone? CJ and Jane, maybe you’ll get a good chuckle and a little relief from this round, and I hope the new kitten is busy winning over the three fellows, especially Tanner, as hoped.
Maybe my example, being tolerant of Curry’s excesses, will get through to him just a little more, that a human home just might be a better deal than being stuck outside in the wet, cold, heat, and hungry and thirsty, that a little attention and food, water, and shelter are fine things. Maybe. No, doubtful. I think he’s confirmed in his opinion. But I can allow for that, I suppose, even if I’d rather he stayed.
Aarrgh. Back to square one with the list, to find him a place. No luck so far. Trying the one first. I’m not above calling that Barn Cat Project again. This has got to work out. Curry’s back in. I owe him a chance and he’s given me another chance. He may not agree with me, but he deserves the best future I can manage to give him. I still have a principle or two somewhere, though they’re a bit bent and bedraggled these days.
Best Wioshes, everyone. Life is most strange at times. Kismet? Karma? I don’t know so clearly anymore, but I would like to think there’s something better, some reason for all the things we go through in this life.
Dang-fool cats. Both of them pleased with themselves, both of them (and me) with quite different ideas on what they want from life. I, too. E Pluribus Unum it is.
Has the Cat-girl told you her name yet?
Just checking in, this thread seems to have wandered from the original post–how is Tanner adapting to his new acquaintance? And she to him, and to the rest of the family?
Curry slept all day, except to eat, and showed no interest in going out when the groceries arrived. I fed him and Goober their supper. There was a brief hiss from one of them before they got their food, but then peace reigned supreme.
Near dusk, and Curry is a bit hoarse, but oh, nothing would do but that he gets to go Outside. So…well, this is not a good idea, I think, but…. I let him out. I gave him a couple of minutes and a chance to come back in.
There’s activity around the complex as people are getting in and kids may be getting ready to trick-or-treat or else play.
Goober got interested in poking his head out. I stopped that, got him back in. (No way is a 13 year old cat, thoroughly acclimated to the indoors going to be OK out there tonight.) He’d be so lost and would likely get scared and sick and beaten up by other cats.
Curry therefore made his exit while I closed the door to put Goober in the bedroom.
So…I will keep my ears open for Curry this evening and until bedtime. I’ll likely call him after that. He may stay out a short while and decide it’s too cold and noisy out there and he wants back in. Or he may think he can brave it and stay out. Either way, I think he’s nuts, but I’m thinking of this as, you learn your own lesson the hard way, kitty. You’re the one insisting you want out. I could refuse, and put up with the yowling and pawing at the blinds and so on. Or I can let him do this and hope he doesn’t get hurt or get too sick from it.
I guess a cozy day inside to sleep it off, a warm, dry, safe place to sleep and food and attention, were not enough to change his mind. Tonight might be enough to do it. Maybe. Or he’s just too determined, too wild, and too young to change his mind.
I am really hoping he will catch a clue, decide it’s getting too cold out, and want back in, and call to be let in, since that worked this morning. It’s supposed to get down to 38 tonight, and the temp has been dropping all day.
I feel bad for letting him out, and yet I think there’s no other way he’d be satisfied and no other way for him to (maybe) learn the lesson than this. So I hope he comes back soon, or he’s going to have a long, cold, unhappy night. I realize also, he may be back in the morning, greatly subdued, only to decide again tomorrow night that he wants back out. It’s supposed to be in the 40’s at night for a week or so.
So…I am trying tough love, and I hope I’m making the right call here. Curry, buddy, you are gonna be one cold cat whenever you do decide to come back. You may make yourself sick too, kitty. I don’t like this. But I know he wouldn’t listen otherwise. I’m taking a gamble that one object lesson might work, but it may not. Sigh. Cats….
Nope, too soon, he doesn’t want back in yet. I went back out and called. Got an excited cat who came back after a little calling, seemed to be happy about it. But nope, he wouldn’t come back in, and hopped onto the stairs with a meow which was something like, “But I’m not cold yet!” or “So long, see ya later!”
Not smart, kitty. — I will call him later. Maybe he’ll change his mind. Or I’m just wishing again. Darn it. I just can’t bring myself to think him staying out there overnight is a good idea.
But I wasn’t going to pick him up and have him object, either. It’s got to be his choice this time. He has to really want it. He may not want it permanently, even then. I just hope he doesn’t get sick or hurt and have it cost hi his life. But he’s made it plain enough what he wants, and I am telling myself to respect that. I’m not having a very good time doing that. Near freezing overnight. I wish he’d stay in. I guess I just have to let it play out. Tomorrow I get to call around again and try to resolve this. Dang it.
Que sera sera.
My childhood cat went on rumspringa for a couple days, some time after he was neutered IIRC. My mother was sanguine. He became a very calm adult cat, though always an indoor-outdoor cat.
Que sera sera.
Mine occasionally ended up in a tree. Sometimes she couldn’t figure out how to get down, and had to be helped – I think those were when she got chased. (Once it was four days, but I stopped worrying when I saw she was moving from tree to tree. She got down on her own, IIRC.)
Thought maybe I heard him this morning. Got up, didn’t see him. Called. Nothing. If he came by, he left right away. Darn kitty, you missed your chance. Hoping he’s OK. Last night was probably the worst of it for a while, but temps will be down in the 40’s at night for a week.
Sí, que será, será. — Funny enough, that’s almost the same in French, Spanish, and Italian. Very minor differences in spelling and pronunciation.
Just to add to it, the rest of my monthly Amazon Pantry order, the moist cat food and another two items, was “Handed directly to a resident.” Usually, but not always, they get that right. Occasionally, that note appears when the driver left it on the front or back doorstep. Well, it didn’t get delivered to THIS resident or my cat…or Curry, who is not technically anyone’s cat, even if I have delusions otherwise (hah!). If it was delivered to the office, they didn’t call me. Chances are, some lucky/unlucky resident has my cat food and other items. Well, I hope they can use them…. I’ve therefore had to order more, or I’ll be out next week. I’ve got excess dry food, though it will get used up. I ordered a different couple of flavor packs, just in case the AWOL delivery turns up on my doorstep after all. Either way, Goober will get a change of menu for a month. And Curry might, if he hasn’t frozen his butt off. (I’m fussing, but I do hope he’s OK.)
Thing is, I don’t know whom I’m more aggravated at, myself for getting notions of Good Samaritanism and responsibility and such, or Curry, for wanting his freedom to roam outside more than he wants a good deal with a human who’d be happy to have him, if he’d just curtail the bad behavior. Also, my brain keeps coming up with word-associations for “Curry,” like curtail, curry, worry, hurry, furry, current, cur, and so on.
The universe has a very odd sense of humor and an odder sense of what is fair play.
Oh well, I did get myself involved and insisted in staying involved and taking responsibility, and then letting the little so-and-so out. (Oh, I am thinking of several choice hani words for misbehaving, foolish, or temperamental male feline-like persons….)
Note to self: Self, it does not do much good to call a shelter if you do not have said cat in your apartment or know for certain his whereabouts to get him transferred. So that is on hold until and unless I see him again.
And…oh, my own more hot-headed or less charitable side or egotistical side is saying, well, you dodged that one, good riddance. While my side which, oh, insists upon tilting at windmills, that dreamer side, the over-sensitive, overly dramatic, probably, and mother-hen side, still wants to see Curry show up, happy to see me, and to stay for a happily-ever-after. — Uh, my rational mind does tell me, no, I don’t think he’ll do any such thing, even with a fairly major change of heart. — So I am trying, without too much success, to tell all those parts of me to shut the frell up and let it be, already. Le chat, donc c’est lui. (Yes, that’s a play on, «L’état c’est moi.» but this one is, “the cat, therefore, (it) is he (him, himself).) Which states pretty well the feline worldview and self-view, haha. (Oh, even Goober is not quite free of that view.) (But then, we humans do have our own foibles and egocentricity or species-centric view.)
Eh, anyway, it is sunny and clear and cold out this morning. — Oh, you more northern folks, including those from Europe, would surely laugh that 40’s are my idea of cold, when you’re somewhere below freezing, 20’s or below, likely. I personally count that as “hell has frozen over.” The several times at college and one year at home that it got down into the teens, with or without ice and snow…oh, walking to/from class through that was…brrr..and one very long, very cold night in the drafty dorm was…brr, indeed. I am not well suited to that level of cold. I wasn’t out in the 40’s this morning long enough to need a heavy coat, for which I was thankful.
Y’all stay warm and dry, please. Just because some little furry butt feline doesn’t know a good deal when he sees one, has it handed to him on a plate, doesn’t mean I’d begrudge anyone else (including him) a warm, dry, safe, healthy, and cozy place with people, two-footed or four, who are congenial or at least tolerant company.
I think I’ll be surprised if the blinds or the porch light get fixed today, which means it won’t be until next week, if then, likely.
Help, I have become that crabby, cranky, curmudgeony middle-aged neighbor who lives by himself. — I do not want to be that guy.
I’ve had way too little sleep but I’m up and will get in some computer time today. Reading or video tonight, likely after crashing in the evening. Weird week. — Entering the holidays, which are a difficult period for me. I am hoping to avoid getting melancholy and depressed or static this season. Going to try to make the vest of it just me and Goober. If I see or hear from those local friends, I’ll be very surprised. I’ll try calling again next week. Not really expecting anything. 🙁 — I have a stubborn streak that, I’m discovering, still does want to fight back against bad circumstances, and still, in a pinch, has a self-protective side.
So, well, have a good day, y’all. I am fussy but trying to keep my chin up and face the world. I guess with a mix of a smile and a growl or grumble. But it’s what I’ve got for now. Working on it. I want to get back to a more agreeable and friend able self.
I don’t know if I could be decent company for a roommate or two or three, but I have this wishful-thinking thing going on lately about that as a way to get myself out of my current troublesome situation and into something better. That is probably only wishful thinking, but within about two years, my situation has to have improved, or things will be very not-good indeed. So…trying to be productive today at something that might gain income: fonts and/or writing.
Well, he went out with his fur coat on, di’n’t he?
(If the answer is no, I do not want to hear about it!)
He did. I’m assuming he still has it on. Eek. Also assuming he did not, you know, join some freaky skinhead cats group and shave it all off…. Haha. (Also eek.) So yeah, his choice. I am telling myself to let it be and not let it be a problem anymore, so if he shows up, OK, and if he doesn’t, OK. But I may have trouble sticking to that point.
—–
The apartment: I’m tired and irritated, so I’m not going to do something right now. I also need to give it time to play out. But I think I may have reached about my saturation point.
I can’t reach those so-called friends other than their voicemail today. I haven’t called in a while because I’d gotten tired of them not doing things when they said they would, or playing phone tag. And yet I’m still going to have to rely on them or someone.
I got an email form response from the apt. complex this morning, saying the service request was completed and the work had been done. Uh…no…. If they send that out in anticipation of completing it, but before it’s actually completed, to look like they’re doing things, then that’s not really doing it. — I sent back a (short, polite) reply saying no, the work had not been done. They list it as my pet having damaged the blinds and me asking for the replacement. Well, I reported it as a stray cat I’d taken in and not my regular pet cat. But OK. I replied no, the work had not been done yet, no one has been by yet, both problems still need to be fixed, and one looks bad to me and to others around the apartments, and I said the porch light needs to be fixed for public safety. I said either it’s broken or there’s a short. It could be either one, and either of those could be a hazard to the building. I didn’t emphasize that, I just said it was for public safety.
No reply yet. I don’t know if that email address accepts replies. But I also CC’d a copy to myself.
I then saw the other items have had emails that they’ve been completed too. Cutesy but false claims. Convenient for them and for the landlord, unless they get caught.
Notwithstanding that I have packages waiting over at the office that have been there a month (and I don’t really expect to get them), and even though I don’t have a good solid paper trail proving my points, I’m not happy with this. I’m too short of sleep and I do want to give them a reasonable chance to get the current two items fixed. (I figure the dryer vent won’t be fixed anyway.)
But I think when I’ve gotten some sleep, beginning tomorrow, I am going to look to see what other apartments are available in this part of town. I’m likely going to have to rely on those friends or one other contact I might have, if I move. By contract, I’m supposed to give, it’s either 2 weeks or 60 days notice, I don’t recall.
I also want to see if a rent-to-own or renovated rent-to-own house might (doubtfully) be within reach. (Note, I figure that at my current rate, I have two years or less before my savings run out, period. I figure if I can’t get my income up and self-supporting by then, I’m in desperate shape.)
So I am probably going to have to rely on those friends to get into another apartment or to get a home. But either way, one or more roommates would significantly improve my chances to prolong my budget.
I may not move, or not yet. This needs time to think it through and plan and get it done right. But I get the feeling that even though this apartment complex might be one of the better ones, it’s no longer a very good choice for me. I am so tired of feeling so stuck without good options.
So…I have no real idea of how to hunt for a roommate (or a few). I haven’t apartment-hunted by myself; I’d had the help of those friends looking at several places and getting here and moving. I’d need to find a place, apt. or house, and I’d need to pack what isn’t boxed up and get moved. I think I am going to need those friends to do that.
Meanwhile, I’m going to see if the apts. answer today or Monday. If not, I’ll call Monday afternoon and talk to one of their office staff, the manager or otherwise.
I’ve had less than four hours’ sleep, so I’m not really too functional, but I’m up and going for now.
Just — dang it, I am far from perfect, but I really need my situation to improve, and I am tired of being overlooked or taken advantage of. It’s not my dang fault if others can’t be bothered to do what they say they’ll do, either the friends or the apt. complex’s responsibility under their side of the contract. — And I don’t intend to do anything too stupid or rash. I try to be friendly and civil, maybe too nice, in person, especially in a formal situation like that.
Hmm…I think I had better call the apt. office now and ask that the work be done, rather than waiting until Monday. At least it might get it done sooner rather than mid to late next week. At least it’ll let them know verbally that I know the work has not yet been done and I’m not happy with their note saying it was, when anyone can walk by and see it’s not done. But nicely put.
Not going to say anything about moving out, because if I do, I want to give notice with ample time to have myself moved out and have the place cleaned up and ready to turn over as required and reasonable.
I’d rather stay here. But I also want a better situation, and I’m tired of asking for things to get done and having to nag from my end to get them done, either the apartments or the friends. When I have to keep at those friends, it doesn’t look good when I can’t / don’t therefore follow through on time, on appointment, as I’d said I would. People do not understand this. It doesn’t matter that I’m handicapped and therefore more dependent than I want to be on others for help. People simply do not understand it or make allowances for it, especially if I say I’ll do something, and then I don’t, because those friends don’t keep up their end of it.
And hey, I am paying my rent and bills regularly. Yes, my apt. is too cluttered, but I am working on it. But as long as I’m doing that, they are still required to do maintenance requested and keep their side of the contract too. The landlord’s side of it has nearly all the rights and options and the tenant’s / lessee’s side of it has nearly none, but even so, the apt. complex is required to keep up reasonable maintenance. — I wonder how many others are having similar issues. I wonder how many others are having their apartments inspected by a five-minute walk-through look-see that does not, could not, possibly see anything but the most obvious problems.
Aarrgh. Oh, I wish I had a better local friend group for herp and for moral support, to vent to, to talk to, to get simple, ordinary help. So tired of being too alone with things. I’m not an idiot. I’m not a slob. I am not perfect. I am not always doing so great. But dang it, I’m trying, chipping away at it. It just feels like every time I make even a little progress, something comes along and undoes it. Either something entirely outside of my control, or I somehow screw up. So frustrated with my own shortcomings, and so frustrated with how other people are, how my situation is. — I still pray. I have been praying lately to get from where I am now to where I need to be, because I don’t know anymore how else to put it in a way that’s reachable. I’d prayed for friends before and nothing much helped. (I have long-distance, internet friends, such as here, but locally, just about none. I didn’t used to be like this. I am not a bad guy or a bad friend. Oh, sure, I’m fussy too much lately. But there are reasons. I’m still a good friend, even though I’m in such a mess and feel so messed up personally.) Just…aarrgh. Things need to get better. I can’t help it when something isn’t my fault and isn’t in my control to begin with. I can only do something about what is my own dang fault or responsibility.
(And on the funny side, my bank sign-on the other day claimed I’m eligible for a Platinum Visa card. They must be giving them away, if they think I’m eligible now. If my credit as somehow become good enough again, despite the level of spending and decreasing overall balance, I would be very surprised. Ah, and although it might look good and be an advantage, it wouldn’t actually help much. I don’t think I’d have enough of a spending limit if I needed to do larger expenditures, such as rent, that way. So I was mostly only amused and will keep it in mind. It won’t hurt to apply and get the card, if so, unless they charge for an inactive card / account, unused. Or am I looking at that from the wrong way. — I used to have very good credit, until my grandmother’s situation worsened so much and ate too far into my savings. It may be clear now.)
That reminds me, my debit card is up for the automatic new card, I think next month. Won’t be a problem, as long as my mailbox gets it.
Off-Off-Topic: Spanish, French, and back to their Latin sources:
In thinking of the porch light and the window blinds, I realized I needed more Spanish vocabulary words, which may have taught me a little if I’ve truly retained things.
(Oh for goodness sakes, I’ve just realized I’ve lost a basic French verb. I’ll have to look it up.)
In Spanish, I remembered things like, el Fuego and fuegar, the noun and verb for, the fire, to fire, and those are cognate with le feu, the fire, in French. In Spanish, you, “inciende la luz” and “apaga la luz,” you turn the light on and off, basic classroom first year vocabulary. (I’ve confused the spellchecker to heck and gone.) Hmm, but I’d suddenly realized I couldn’t remember how to say, “to burn,” in Spanish. In French, the most common verb for, to burn, is brûler. Think of crème brûlée. But that didn’t help me in Spanish, no direct cognate. — Google Translate offered two basic verbs, quemar(se) or arder(se), for “to burn,” and isn’t so clear on which has what connotations, which are very important in translating properly.
Arder, ardiente, ardiento, in Spanish — These are like ardent(e)(s) in French, the same adjective we have in English ardent. It has both the meaning ardent and burning (ardently). — So the Spanish verb and adjective may share that. And likely the Latin adjective would be ardens, ardente, and whatever for the plural forms.
Aha! Well, that made me wonder: Doe.s that “ardent” meaning go clear back to Latin? I’m presuming English borrowed “ardent” from Norman French during the Norman period. Is there some more precise meaning to “ardens, ardere, ardor,” in Latin, to burn brightly, fervently, eagerly, hotly, with suggestions going into ardent passion and love, ardent belief, ardent friendship, and so on? I think likely so, and I think Spanish carries that over along with French and English. But I don’t know the exact meaning in Latin, and I wonder; I’m asking.
Quemar and quemarse in Spanish seem to be the main, basic verb for, to burn. But I’m having trouble thinking of any cognates in English and I’m not sure of any in French. It may be a new word, an innovation or repurposing or borrowing in Spanish, which languages do from time to time.
Why? Because in Spanish and French, you have this basic, very much older idea that any sort of light, lamp, candle, etc., is a burning flame that you light and put out, like a kerosene lamp or hurricane lamp or other oil lamp. Never mind that your lights are electric now, you still use words that mean you are lighting and putting out the flame of the lamps. So that relates to burning a lamp, the midnight oil, so I realized I needed to relearn the verbs and make sure I remembered the vocabulary for turning on and off a light, for that porch light. I remembered the Spanish words fine, but not, to burn. I see I have to check to see if I remember the French words right. … Nope, I have, “la lumière” just fine, but I have forgotten “to light” and “to put out” (turn on, turn off) the light. My mind says, “Enceint, enceindre,” but that may be en instead of ein, which changes the nasal vowel entirely. And I have somehow lost track of, to put out the light, to turn off the light. So hey, Google Translate….
Anyway, II’d wondered about “ardens, ardere, ardor” in Latin, and wondered if I could get a, uh, brighter idea. ;o)
—–
The apt. mgmt. ofcs. assure me that they will look up the cost of replacing the blinds and get back to me via email, and this will be a separate item, not simply added to the monthly fee, so it’s due on completion of the repair. OK, and I’ll probably not expect the cost of the blinds and labor to be as high as whatever it is these days. But it has to be done. Curry whacked the blinds good on the sides and one or two shots in the middle, which took out two of the long horizontal slats and, oh, a few edge / side slats. (Lidón, lidones) I’d better recheck that I’ve got that right in Spanish, slats. Blinds or shades are “las persianas,” so to the Spanish, those are a Persian thing. Curtains, las cortinas. If the blinds had been vertical, there’s a small chance he might not have done as much damage. Taking out the wide slats happened Sunday night or before dawn Monday, I think, or I just didn’t notice Saturday. Kinda obvious, though.
Ah, I also need to find out how to say there may be a short (short circuit) in the porch light.
There are a million things we say in everyday conversation that we never even think of knowing how to say. We learn nearly all of those basics before and during elementary school. In middle and high school, we add more specialized, educated vocabulary, no matter how “educated” we are or aren’t. In college, we add mostly technical field jargon, but from everything we study in college. — So someone like me, learning a language in the classroom versus out in the wild in immersion settings, I know a fair bit of vocabulary and grammar, but even by the time I can read ordinary conversational level in the language, or college level — I am still going to lack a huge amount of everyday vocabulary words we all take for granted until we use them and discover, oh, I don’t know how to say that in the new language, often in either one of them, if you have more than one new language.
And the really funny thing is too, everyday native speakers do not think of this either. In English, we don’t think of all those words as anything new or unusual when we use them. Spanish and French (any other) speakers don’t either. — In fact, we all of us learned those words back when we were little kids, up through our preteens, for most of those. — This means that as a learner for a new language in an immersion setting, I can stumble around thinking of how to ask what a word is or how to describe something the long way around, without that word. It also means most young kids may laugh because it’s so funny that a grownup wouldn’t know how to say something so very, very simple. Wall? Ceiling? Floor? Leak? Floorboard? Moulding (that strip of wood that goes around floors, doors, furninture, picture frames). Sit, stand, seat, chair, couch, sofa…. Porch. To turn on, to light. To turn off, to put out the light. On? Off? Around the apartment complex? Stray cat? Inside the wall? …. The air conditioner leak that was above the bathroom sink…. — All those and others, I’ve looked at again today, and window blinds, window shades, curtains, slats, hahah — and I have absorbed some but probably not all of those, and will need to review them many times to be sure.
I discovered also, no, it is not “la mura” in Spanish, it is, “pared,” but Google Translate does not know it should tell me if that’s masculine or feminine. El pared or La pared. I have to use a phrase to check. (I’d mistremembered; I’d thought the word was cognate to “le mur” in French. It’s not. El pared or La pared.) But I did think to try the word “mural,” which is in all three.
Sink. Faucet. Tap water? Oven and stove. Washer and dryer. Dishwasher. (Oh that one’s odd, gotta check it again, lost it already.) Not just nouns, but lots of verbs. Prepositions get odd between languages. Certain verbs go odd, into different ideas of what a thing is and how you do it and what it means to be some verb or noun you need. Like two forms of to be, to have, to know. Shades of meaning or areas that don’t quite match up between the two languages, but make perfect sense when you think about them, when you learn what those word-shapes, the web of connotations, are.
And Cathy’s grandson is likely more fluent than I am, and so are, most assuredly, all the kids around here, even the Kindergarteners. They know basic Spanish words I haven’t known I don’t know yet, haha. And I’m probably a very funny grownup guy not to know those perfectly simple, common words those kids use every day. The adults are (usually) much more understanding of this, since they have the reverse problem: English is very hard for them. But haha, it has gotten very interesting and funny, a few times, trying to talk between us for maintenance issues. Typically, it’s a Spanish-speaking guy whose English is not as good as my Spanish, and my Spanish is still not good enough to carry on a conversation most of the time without the two of us having to gesture, describe, act out, and try to guess what on Earth the other guy, who must be crazy or slow-witted, is trying to say. (No, actually, these guys mostly are glad if and when I try to speak Spanish, even as halting as it may be for me still. They have the same trouble trying to understand me in English or speak to me in English. The effort, that the Anglo guy is willing, wants to try to learn Spanish and talk to them in the language they wee born with, that they are comfortable with, goes a long way, even though it’s frustrating to them.)
There is also, clearly, a great deal of culture, of folklore and customs, ideas, history, literature, art, all those things we take for granted as growing kids and teens, as adults and senior adults, that I also — do not know, about a language that is more common in the apartments where I live, and throughout much of my city, than I know, even though I’m native here and have been around Spanish speakers all my life here to some degree. — But increasingly, I’m meeting and talking to folks whose first language is Spanish, or at least it’s one of their languages. I’m used to folks who are Tex-Mex or truly bilingual. I’m used to the Anglo on the outside who is exposed to that now and then, sometimes more, but so much of the time, only superficially. But these days, I’m around it and in it more, and need it. I’m learning more as I go, and oh, learning how much I don’t know. And yet I went to school with kids who were just as Texan or American as I was, as well as kids who were new here, for whom Spanish was half or all of their lives, and English was half or less of their lives, sometimes learned and new for them, and strange and puzzling. (And Anglo culture here is this uneasy mix of people who are perfectly fine with Latino culture, and Anglos who are completely prejudiced, so that it’s hard for people to know, and everyone approaches this every day this way. Most of us are friendly on either side of it and many of us are caught in the middle, between the two worlds, Anglo and Latino.
I am learning how much I didn’t know, had no clue about, in things like that too. (Like the awkward interaction where a visitor said, er, they were looking for someone more, ah, Hispanic than I was. LOL, I was too surprised to then speak Spanish, I’d defaulted to English and yes, I look very Anglo.) I, uh, wasn’t quite Hispanic enough for them? But he honestly had not meant it as an insult or exclusion. He was caught by surprise and that’s what came out. He was looking for friends or family in another apartment and got me instead, a very white guy. Heh. So that was odd for us both. Odd for me, the inadvertent, and unintended way he put it, and awkward for him because he’d realized, too late, he’d put it that way. And I knew not to be offended, but oh, I know I thought about it later, and I’m sure he did too. And yes, I had a minute there, irked at it, even though I knew I shouldn’t be.
If I were in a French immersion setting, I would have a little more advantage, because I had a lot more study time, into college lit. — But I haven’t had immersion, and more tellingly, I haven’t had much practice except off and on, for years. Then I’ll take spurts of reviewing, but it’s not an everyday thing and it’s not immersion. So I would still be like I was in college, with a dictionary in one hand and my textbook in another, to read college-level French, some of it from a few centuries ago, and try to learn all I could. — I see now, in an immersion setting, I’d be like I am here, realizing whenever I try to use it, how much I don’t know yet, vocabulary as well as all the living that goes with it.
Rambling, but I’ve just spent 30 minutes or so, just looking up words, trying to remember enough that it’ll fill in a few gaps, to be able to talk to whoever does the maintenance. some of them understand English more than others, but none are truly fluent, of the maintenance workers. They understand and read it better than they can speak it, but that understanding isn’t easy. And from my side, I have a similar problem with Spanish, plus I still somehow expect I remember it just as well as my pretty good command of two years of school Spanish, 8th and 9th grade. Enough that combined with French, I did pretty well reading things like museum information cards for exhibits.
Man…. How starved am I for real conversation or time spent with people who’d get me? How long is this? And it’s just me pouring words onto a page, as if I were talking to people here, but it’s one-sided. I don’t often have that real interaction. All my (adult) neighbors are busy, working or returning from work. All the kids, when they get out of school, want to play and be with other kids, not some guy. And after dark, I have way more trouble seeing than I used to. Not as good in the daylight either. So…eh, I am too shut-in, I am getting by, I am coping. But I’m writing like this because I’m starved for human interaction, and this is from a guy who is somewhat introverted and a loner. I am, but I also like and need people, even so.
Well, anyway, I had some points about language and culture.
It’s going to be tomorrow or Monday before I even get that email about the repairs, I can tell.
My school French and Spanish teachers and my college French prof would be frustrated but would likely understand how rusty my languages are and how staccato my review has been. I want to get it back to an hour’s review a day with any one language, heavy on the Spanish, then French, then others. — I love it, but it’s harder these days to keep focused and to retain things. I keep thinking I’ve retained study, and then days later, I find I haven’t really. — I am not yet back to that place where it’s building on itself and where I”m back to feeling proficient, fluent, and truly thinking in it without much interruption. In college, I could think in French and sometimes had snippets of dreams with French, and my Spanish was what you’d want from any Spanish II student ready for Spanish III and IV; it was very good. — I still don’t feel I’ve got it back there yet, but I’m better than I had been, which was really rusty, at both.
a) Cats can handle a lot colder temperatures than 40 °F, as long as they can keep their skin dry.
Check out these photos of some housecats enjoying the snow in Finland (a link from Jim C. Hines’ blog): https://www.boredpanda.com/norwegian-forest-cats-sampy-hiskias/?utm_source=jimchines&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=organic
b) I too would love to hear how the new kitten and the three resident cats are doing.
Yay skogs! Those are some admirable shots of very floofy cats in the snow. Pretty sure Mr. Junior has some Maine Coon or Norwegian Forest in his genome, although he has never seen snow in all his born days.
Thirding wanting to hear about how the new Queen of All She Surveys (She Who Must Be Obeyed?) is adjusting, and the other gatos as well.
The quote for the window blinds was taped to my door either yesterday evening or this morning. That’s a much better price than I would’ve thought. I’d guess that’s just a labor charge, not the cost of the blinds, which they probably have stored, bought in bulk for the complex. Now to get it scheduled and done, along with the porch light. They give the measurements of both sets of blinds, which is handy.
As far as I know, “Manchu” is not a Spanish (or Catalan or Portuguese) last name. This means the maintenance worker had a Chinese ancestor, which is really interesting. I’ve met Latino folks who had (East) Indian, African, and other ancestry thrown into the melting pot / tossed salad that is our American, Latino, and increasingly global heritage. I’ve also met folks with even more interesting blended heritage (and I like that term better than mixed race, which has not-nice old connotations). Multi-racial seems OK, but, well, biologically, the genetic differences don’t amount to even about 1%, I’m told. All those little yet noticeable differences we humans fuss over among ourselves, apparently are not really genetically even enough to really count as “races,” and absolutely too small to be subspecies. We are, genetically, biologically, a single species, even a single race, with around that ±1% difference between any two humans. And yet we’ve spent so much time and wasted effort and emotion and violence, throughout history, against neighboring or other groups because of such little things here and there. I suppose we should be glad no one has (as far as I know) ever gotten all upset over eye color or a few other differences in appearance.
I may have heard Curry twice yesterday between when I woke up and around 10:00am, but didn’t see him when I looked and called. No sign of him the rest of the day or night. I did check, called once after dark. Nothing today. The weather now is predicted to be a bit warmer than previously thought, days and nights, but still just cold enough I will keep the heat on another night before trying it back on A/C. If Curry shows up during the week, I’ll make calls again, but unless he does, there’s no point to doing so.
Goober’s calm is undamaged by this. Heh. — It is sunny, clear, very pretty outside, but chilly enough to wear a jacket and cold weather clothes, at least a sweatshirt. But too warm inside for me to want to wear a sweater. Hah.
I hope the new kitten and Tanner and the two, Shu and Sei, are doing fine. No knowing if the spellchecker redid those. Goober has decided to sit down between me and the keyboard and screen, hahah. Someone wants attention. LOL.
Vocabulary: I rechecked a little, but now I have a conundrum. Google Translate cannot decide whether a “porch” is un pórtico (which I had suspected) or un porche, in Spanish. I would guess un pórtico is native and un porche is slang or dialectal, influenced by us norteamericanos, who are not estadounidenses, although that’s where we’re from. 😉
I’d forgotten, “allumer” and “éteindre,” and now feel really foolish that those had slipped my mind. Allumer: that “a-” is either from ad- or en-/in- from Vulgar Latin / Common Romance or Old French, and éteindre is ex- + -ten(d)ere or a slight shift from whatever extinguish is in those; that’s the meaning, illuminate and extinguish the lights. Again that old pre-modern idea that a light is a flame that you light, you burn it.
Slats of window blinds: Les lattes in French, which makes me think we tacked on an S in English to the French word, but I could be wrong there. In Spanish, I didn’t have it memorized yet, but I think now I do: it’s un/el listón, unos/los listones, for the slats. Window blinds or shades, Google Translate still insists are “las persianas,” (the Persians). Somehow, that’s funny and just slightly odd to me, and yet English does things like that too.
A stray cat is “un gato callejero,” which more literally is, a street cat, callejero is something like “street-er.” A stray cat from around the apartment complex is, “de alrededor de los apartamentos,” and not “aparamientos,” I have to watch ‘-mente/o/a” versus “-miente/o/a,” which don’t always apply like I expect; I don’t have the pattern down yet. (-Mente) is usually the adverb ending; -miento is usually the noun ending, but not always, for either of them, and of course there are other class-modifier words to turn a root from one part of speech to another (nouns to/from verbs, adj./adv., and so on). — Alrededot is indeed “around” an area. (Oh, nuts, I need to look up “outside” again. It’s dehors, hors in French (en dehors, un hors-d’œuvre) but I don’t have it memorized in Spanish. (Dentro is inside, compare dentre and dedans in French.) I need to relearn a bunch of prepositions in both languages. I still remember most of the cases where French uses a weird preposition that doesn’t fit the English-speaking mindset. Sobre o abajo, sur ou sous, au-dessur ou au-dessous. En frente de, but what’s behind? En face/front de out arrière/derrière de…. Hmm…. procain, próximo, depuis, despues, premer/último, premier/ultime, I think I’m still missing something.
I heard Curry at the other door around midnight, I think, but when I got to the door, no cat. I also heard what may have been him or another stray cat fighting or mating, earlier and later. No sign of him so far today. I still have the spare litterbox out, since he had shown up last time after emptying it. But during the week, I’ll likely put the unused litter in Goober’s box and clean the spare and put it up. Tomorrow will be the 4th day since I last saw him, when he had sacked out all day.
Our weather has warmed back up and is still cool at night, but headed back to more seasonal temps. That’s OK for him, as long as he has shelter from the rain or if it turns cold. — If it turns too cold, near freezing or below, and if he shows up, yes, I’ll give him a port in a storm. But he’ll have to be quarantined, separated from Goober to avoid the risk of Goober’s health. — I think I’m about resigned to Curry being gone, a stray around the complex whom I might see occasionally.
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Some good news and cause for very minor celebration: in a few days, I will get the very last load of backlog laundry washed and set out to dry. If anything currently drying or dried and hanging has soured, it will be rewashed next. But yay@ The next-to-last two loads are air-drying now. Next up will be to get all the clothes, towels, sheets, etc. organized, so everything is together where it belongs, instead of spread out, such as my socks and underwear are currently. It will also let me sort through clothes and give away old or extra clothes at a good time before it gets truly cold again and around the holiday season. If I knew a local men’s or teen’s shelter that might pick them up, I could donate directly once it’s ready. But experience tells me no one wants to bother picking up, they want it dropped off. Anyway, I hope I can donate and help.
Left messages with the erstwhile friends and haven’t heard back. At this point, not sure when or if I will. I’m aggravated. But I haven’t been getting reliable or timely help from them anyway. The problem is, it means I’ll have to ask others or knock on doors if I need something.
Tomorrow, I’ll schedule the replacement of the blinds and repair/replacement of the porch light or electrical fault connected with it. Hoping they can get that done during the week, so it won’t be ongoing, look bad, or be a risk to me and to the complex. (The porch light could be; the blinds are really unsightly and embarrassing.)
I’ve determined that the newer font editing / drawing program can now read in the old program’s files, but it won’t import everything. Never mind that they’re from the same company, so they ought to be able to write it to import everything, IMHO. Word is, they do not plan to update the old program, which has a large user base still, and everyone will have to migrate to the new program. Good thing I have it already. The upgrade / cross grade price is steep. The full price for a new user is even steeper. So I’m OK, but not thrilled, and at least I can avoid an upgrade fee this time.
The old program has a long history, now owned by FontLab, formerly by Adobe, Macromedia, and back to Altsys (Fontographer). They don’t plan to upgrade it because that would require, at minimum, rewriting and recompiling from 32-bit to 64-bit, now required for all macOS Catalina apps and forward. Why they didn’t up it from 32 to 64 way back when Apple and Microsoft were making the transition to 64-bit for everything, I don’t know. FontLab seems to have a small staff and, er, a focus on making a big profit off the specialized user community (font developers) more than actually servicing their needs and doing upgrades in a quick cycle. (Not just my opinion; others have been way more vocal about it.)
So…progress, tiny, but there.
Still plenty of rebooting and downsizing to do. Still have to tackle the storage space. Where things are in that, I wish I knew. Hoping to get over there this month and next. I’ll be lucky if I can get those erstwhile friends to help. :-/ Just gotta deal with it, find a way around it.
I haven’t yet looked, but I intend to, about alternatives for moving elsewhere in town, maybe getting one or more roommates. I’m nervous about this, but I think it’s time to face that I should prepare in case. — I have never had a roommate except during college in the dorm. I have been solo entirely, since my grandmother’s been gone, which will soon be 8 years. I’m over 50, legally blind, and gay. And I am still trying to get myself back on my feet in a sustainable way. So I am very nervous about me moving in with anyone or them with me, but it would sure help both budget and basic human companionship and support. Even a loner can be more alone than he wants to be. — I don’t really know what I should do. I still want to be on my own, but I also feel I really need to get into a better situation, one or more roommates, an apartment or a rent-to-own home. I figure if I don’t improve my income and spending, I have two years at best before I run through what I have left, and then I don’t have any assets left. So…that is why I am so constantly up in the air about everything. I am not making enough progress fast enough. I’m frustrated with myself and with the world, and I know that shows in my fussy attitude. Can’t help it. I am still overdoing things too often, and I’ve resolved to quit that.
Also, I’ve come to realize something. I’ve been very down lately, and the situation with Curry highlighted that, but also helped get me moving more. I’ve realized that as depressed as I can be at times, on the other hand, any time I get pushed by some types of things, I fight back. When I’d turned on the dryer and quickly turned it off because it smelled scorched, a smoke or fire risk even though it wasn’t doing anything yet (thank goodness) that worried me, and I wanted things to be OK, no harm to me or Goober or the apartment or our neighbors. So, uh, some things get me very down so that I want to give up. But I’ve never actually attempted self-harm. When certain things come up, threats, I worry but I fight back, I work to survive whatever it is. When I do get depressed and get stuck not making progress, or moping, depressive, what I do is essentially pull into my shell. But unlike at my worst in college and shortly after, I long ago stopped trying to sleep my life away and hope the world just left me alone. I get up, I do something, whatever it is. I function, even if I’m not doing that great. — And over time, I have gotten better at keeping myself going, even if it’s a little bit of progress, and better (usually) at not getting into those ruts quite so much. It’s still too often an internal fight against feeling depressed. But, well, I think maybe it was a breakthrough to see that, always, and more so lately, instead of any self-harm (other than withdrawing into myself) I do something instead, I try to keep at it, I don’t ever self-harm. So…realizing that I always get alarmed and fight back, work at things, in any emergency or most other situation,s, that helps me see, hmm, I’m maybe not ultimately as far down as I thought, deep down. There’s that depressed layer, but below that, there’s a strong, stubborn survival streak that still is always active. So…if that’s the case, then there must be a way to shake loose the depressive layer, deep or thick as it may be, and throw off some of its symptoms, causes, and effects. Somehow.
Yeah, that doesn’t sound good, but it actually is maybe a step up.
I’m on the compter to write or work on fonts. Font work will mean importing and saving the ld source files to the new format, and going from there. That leaves an archival point with old file versions and new file versions to move forward from.
Writing is still…I don’t know why I get stuck. But writing does happen.
Other than that, just a typical day and week, looks like. Mid-month this month and next are reminders and difficult, when I lost my grandmother (before Thanksgiving), my dad (before Christmas), and my mom (before Easter). But those are old wounds far in the past now, nearly 8, 19, and 21 years ago. I am expecting it will be only a dull ache, like the last few years. My current situation is the more immediately worrisome to me. But, well, I’m carrying on. Maybe somehow, I can still turn things around, heal some more, get further out of the patterns I’ve been in, and further toward a sustainable future, and a better life. Income and human relationships both have to improve so that can happen. I am a mess, but I’d like to think I’m working at it.
Yeah, I over-analyze. I have a really over-active perfectionist streak.
I hope everyone’s doing better and I hope you all have a good week. With Curry’s situation now receded, probably at how it will be from now on, I am hoping to be a little less fussy and up in the air, all over the place, and instead making some progress, getting things done around here. Working on the boxes has helped. I need to get that plus (eventual) income-generating work, plus study, plus some time to relax. So…stuff to do. But I am hoping to be back to forward motion more, and less claws-in-the-ceiling pouring out angst. — My thanks for folks bearing with me.