In which it's a hard life for a cat
Mar. 11th, 2011 05:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
zeborahTwo nights ago I was getting ready for bed and suddenly thought, "Hey, I think I'll wear my nightie tonight instead of sleeping in my clothes," and I did.
Then at 00:44 I woke up. There was a light. I heard voices. I thought, "There shouldn't be light and voices there, the tenants moved out due to earthquake damage." So I grabbed my cellphone, in case the dialing of 111 should be required, and went outside in my nightie and got a torch shone in my face, which I had thought everyone knew wasn't polite, but then there's all sorts of things one thinks people know. For example, one thinks that people know that if your tenants move out of your property due to serious earthquake damage, 00:44 might not be the best time to be poking around among the bricks even if you have just flown down from Auckland right that moment.
They did at least apologise, and even popped over next morning (once they saw me drawing my curtains) to apologise again. Then they set to fixing the house, with its tumble-down chimney, shifted foundations, dips in the roof, and abrupt reception of the other neighbour's firewall, and all. At the rate they're working, I reckon we could set them loose in the CBD and the whole place'd be sorted by Easter.
Alas, in the meantime it's a tad noisy (though at least so far they're confining these exercises to daylight). So Boots, who as per normal for cats would rather like to spend her day having a quiet series of snoozes, is instead spending all her time running to hide under the bed, couch, other bed, or house, every time:
* there's an aftershock above 4;
* any large truck drives past, or any car parks within view of the bedroom window;
* anyone (such as an Aussie cop, Red Cross, various other officials or neighbours) comes to the door;
* or the bloody construction noises go bang bang or grind grind or whatever.
And I thought working from home would at least be quiet.
Also, Boots isn't technically allowed under the house. I've got grills where I can fit them and bricks where I can't. But the painters moved one of the bricks and then after the quake one of the old grills fell out and a brick in another spot either fell or was pushed. So now even when Boots is quietly on my lap (this sometimes lasts as long as two minutes at a time) I can hear the crinkle crinkle of a neighbourhood stray padding softly about on polyurethane beneath me.
Boots continues, as far as I can tell, to have absolutely no interest whatsoever in the rabbits I'm hosting on behalf of my sister.
I attempted a catnap myself this evening, but forgot to turn my computer sound off, so got woken up first by a cheery "You've got mail!" (EQC plans to visit everyone in a quick triage of "If your house is falling down, we'll be back within 4 months; if bits of your house are falling down we'll be back within 6 months; if your house isn't falling down then wtf are you complaining, we'll get back to you in 9 months.") and secondly by the insistent beep of a student IMing the library because I forgot to log out of our helpdesk chat service.
--Ow. I think Boots just tried to catch a fly on the back of my leg. She caught my leg.
Must go; she seems to want to communicate to me that it's her dinner time.
Then at 00:44 I woke up. There was a light. I heard voices. I thought, "There shouldn't be light and voices there, the tenants moved out due to earthquake damage." So I grabbed my cellphone, in case the dialing of 111 should be required, and went outside in my nightie and got a torch shone in my face, which I had thought everyone knew wasn't polite, but then there's all sorts of things one thinks people know. For example, one thinks that people know that if your tenants move out of your property due to serious earthquake damage, 00:44 might not be the best time to be poking around among the bricks even if you have just flown down from Auckland right that moment.
They did at least apologise, and even popped over next morning (once they saw me drawing my curtains) to apologise again. Then they set to fixing the house, with its tumble-down chimney, shifted foundations, dips in the roof, and abrupt reception of the other neighbour's firewall, and all. At the rate they're working, I reckon we could set them loose in the CBD and the whole place'd be sorted by Easter.
Alas, in the meantime it's a tad noisy (though at least so far they're confining these exercises to daylight). So Boots, who as per normal for cats would rather like to spend her day having a quiet series of snoozes, is instead spending all her time running to hide under the bed, couch, other bed, or house, every time:
* there's an aftershock above 4;
* any large truck drives past, or any car parks within view of the bedroom window;
* anyone (such as an Aussie cop, Red Cross, various other officials or neighbours) comes to the door;
* or the bloody construction noises go bang bang or grind grind or whatever.
And I thought working from home would at least be quiet.
Also, Boots isn't technically allowed under the house. I've got grills where I can fit them and bricks where I can't. But the painters moved one of the bricks and then after the quake one of the old grills fell out and a brick in another spot either fell or was pushed. So now even when Boots is quietly on my lap (this sometimes lasts as long as two minutes at a time) I can hear the crinkle crinkle of a neighbourhood stray padding softly about on polyurethane beneath me.
Boots continues, as far as I can tell, to have absolutely no interest whatsoever in the rabbits I'm hosting on behalf of my sister.
I attempted a catnap myself this evening, but forgot to turn my computer sound off, so got woken up first by a cheery "You've got mail!" (EQC plans to visit everyone in a quick triage of "If your house is falling down, we'll be back within 4 months; if bits of your house are falling down we'll be back within 6 months; if your house isn't falling down then wtf are you complaining, we'll get back to you in 9 months.") and secondly by the insistent beep of a student IMing the library because I forgot to log out of our helpdesk chat service.
--Ow. I think Boots just tried to catch a fly on the back of my leg. She caught my leg.
Must go; she seems to want to communicate to me that it's her dinner time.
no subject
Date: 2011-03-11 05:38 am (UTC)The dogs try to communicate that it's dinner time all day. Or just inside time, possibly. There's actually hours Flash spends staring in the window when he could be running around barking like an idiot.