Uh! Huh? Aowai! Uh!
Oct. 5th, 2005 07:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dragonlady7One of my neighbors, kitty-corner on the back lot, every night around dusk stands outside and has a loud, repetitive conversation, using absolutely no consonants. She shouts a lot. I don't know what's going on; it's over the back fence and one or two houses over, so I can't see them. Z insists she's speaking English. I have yet to hear a dialect of English that involves no consonants whatsoever. But I'd be helpless to suggest any other language she could possibly be speaking.
She's been going on for about three-quarters of an hour now, but fell silent about a minute ago and I haven't heard anything but some loud hand-clapping since. The mystery remains unsolved.
I worked like a dog today. I did all the laundry, including the sheets, mattress pads, duvet covers, pillowcases, and afghans. I also scrubbed out the Foosh Palace, which Z seems to have abdicated all responsibility for: at this point, it was growing algae, and I pointed that out to him on Friday and he chose to ignore it all weekend. So I cleaned their tank. I put all the fish into bowls for this process. Shirley has a history of jumping out of improbably large tanks, so I put her into the biggest one, a deep hurricane glass that curves in at the top.
She jumped out.
Stupid pink little bitch. I found her pretty promptly, but not before she'd thrashed around and cut herself on a hair, so she had blood on her side. I dumped her hastily into a bowl and rinsed her well and used up our last caplet of Bettamax to treat her water. She's still in there, evil and angry, but rather listless, which is worrying. Stupid bitch.
Ah well. She'll live, or she won't. I have a straw hat covering her bowl so she cannot jump out again, although she tried and barely managed to break the surface.
Meanwhile I've got quotes from National Fuel about the price of gas, and the energy-auditing Be Green contractor emailed me back with a big fat six-paragraph quotefest. So I've written about three quarters of the thing now.
I'm just so tired, now. Tired. And I have to work tomorrow, and the day after and after and after and after. Bleah.
Z rode his scooter to work, and when he came home I was waiting for him on the porch in my jeans and boots and helmet, and I hopped on and we went to Anderson's for frozen custard. Because I have the autumnal must-stock-up-on-body-fat cravings pretty much nonstop nowadays, and I had been very good and not eaten the entire house while he was gone, but only because I had been waiting for Anderson's.
She's been going on for about three-quarters of an hour now, but fell silent about a minute ago and I haven't heard anything but some loud hand-clapping since. The mystery remains unsolved.
I worked like a dog today. I did all the laundry, including the sheets, mattress pads, duvet covers, pillowcases, and afghans. I also scrubbed out the Foosh Palace, which Z seems to have abdicated all responsibility for: at this point, it was growing algae, and I pointed that out to him on Friday and he chose to ignore it all weekend. So I cleaned their tank. I put all the fish into bowls for this process. Shirley has a history of jumping out of improbably large tanks, so I put her into the biggest one, a deep hurricane glass that curves in at the top.
She jumped out.
Stupid pink little bitch. I found her pretty promptly, but not before she'd thrashed around and cut herself on a hair, so she had blood on her side. I dumped her hastily into a bowl and rinsed her well and used up our last caplet of Bettamax to treat her water. She's still in there, evil and angry, but rather listless, which is worrying. Stupid bitch.
Ah well. She'll live, or she won't. I have a straw hat covering her bowl so she cannot jump out again, although she tried and barely managed to break the surface.
Meanwhile I've got quotes from National Fuel about the price of gas, and the energy-auditing Be Green contractor emailed me back with a big fat six-paragraph quotefest. So I've written about three quarters of the thing now.
I'm just so tired, now. Tired. And I have to work tomorrow, and the day after and after and after and after. Bleah.
Z rode his scooter to work, and when he came home I was waiting for him on the porch in my jeans and boots and helmet, and I hopped on and we went to Anderson's for frozen custard. Because I have the autumnal must-stock-up-on-body-fat cravings pretty much nonstop nowadays, and I had been very good and not eaten the entire house while he was gone, but only because I had been waiting for Anderson's.
