rainy saturday

[dragonlady7]

Chita is reciting moody emo poetry all over the house because it is raining and she cannot go outside. Well, she could, but she knows she would be miserable. But she is miserable in here: all there is to do is alternately chase and be chased by Remi, all over the house.
Last night she kept me up because she wanted to go outside then, too, and moo'd and meow'd and prroo'd and rrrrao'd all over as I was trying to go to sleep. Then Remi started tearing around. And I was annoyed. Finally I fell asleep... and at 6:30, one of them, Chita or Remi, I don't know, walked into the room.
That was all, just walked in. Little teeny floor creaks, a slight rustle as they passed the plastic garbage bin liner.
It was enough to wake me up.
Oh come on, self. Really now. I'm so sleep-deprived I can't see straight, and you're waking me up because a cat walked into the room?
Rgh.
I lay awake for about an hour. My nose wasn't so runny, I wasn't coughing, but the glands in my neck were so swollen it hurt to move my head at all. I figured that wasn't good. I went and took some ibuprofin and drank about a quart of water, which made my nose run.
Finally i fell back asleep. I woke up as Z got back in bed-- he must've woken up and gone to shower, but it didn't wake me (O thou inconsistent level of sleepiness!). It seemed like it was really early in the morning. His hair was wet, and I had forgotten how short it is now. I quite like it this length-- I don't like how it looks, really, but it's quite fun when it's all over the place and the ends are dripping wet and spiky.
When we finally got out of bed I asked him what time it was, as I have trouble seeing the clock. He squinted and squinted and finally made out that it was just after 10.
Wow. Rainy days are disorienting. Rainy days and an inconsistent sleep schedule.

Moo, says Chita. Moo?... Meoo. Ao?... Prrrmao? Rao. She is disconsolate. It is steadily pouring, and across the street, teenage boys in sodden long-sleeved shirts are sprinting around after soccer balls, while adults in raincoats watch with strangely close attentiveness. It's not a game, but some kind of specialized practice. I can't believe they can keep their feet and not die of hypothermia.
Someone's blasting something from their car stereo, which I think sounds an awful lot like the shit people listened to when I was in high school-- has nothing happened in music in a decade? I swear it sounds like Lit. Or maybe Matchbox 20. Seriously, guys. Just the same song over and over, two guitars and a bass drum and a drum set, and one of the boys has terrycloth wristbands and a tight t-shirt and a whiny but clear voice, and tells the microphone with his eyes closed and his mouth wide open about how terrible the world is.

Moo, says Chita, forlornly, broadcasting her discontent from the kitchen table where she crouches, bored. And then the mailman shoves mail through the slot in the door and she comes tearing into the living room, badly startled. The song which I couldn't really hear ends on a harmonic of drawn-out guitar, and the car door slams.

Chita slinks back into the living room. Rrrrrrmm, she mumbles to herself, rolling it in her throat. Rrrr, rrrrmmmm? Inng?

I hear Siamese are very chatty. I can't imagine why anyone would want that. I have quite enough operatic narrative out of my little whiny emo mongrel.

Rrrm, she says, picking her way over to the couch so she can sit on Z and lick herself. She'll be quiet for a while now.

I may take a nap. I got my new skates yesterday afternoon, left quietly by the door by the UPS guy-- I found them when I went out to take down laundry I'd left hanging for two days. It doesn't dry fast when it's this cold out. Good thing I took it down, even though some was still damp, because the rain started soon after that.
I should go test out my new skates this afternoon at Open Skate. But my neck still hurts, and I can only mouthbreathe. So I may not. I am a wuss. :(

Comments

[heebiejeebie.livejournal.com]

"Seriously, guys. Just the same song over and over, two guitars and a bass drum and a drum set, and one of the boys has terrycloth wristbands and a tight t-shirt and a whiny but clear voice, and tells the microphone with his eyes closed and his mouth wide open about how terrible the world is."

Perfect!

[dragonlady7.livejournal.com]

Has anything else even happened, musically, in the last ten years? I listen to corporate radio approximately once in a blue moon and I always have to wait to hear the callsign to find out if it's "new music" or "classic rock" because they play precisely the same shit. I swear to God, Dookie should not still be on a "new music" station-- I was a freshman in high school when that shit came out, and the fact that I still like it is due to the fact that I'd never heard pop music before, not that it's actually that goddamned deathless.

Kids these days.