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So, enroute home, Z (on scooter) picked up a couple of tiny cans of kitten chow we could leave out for little Pavarotti.
[I had theorized that he should be named for a blues musician, given how soulful his wails were, and of course he being a black cat, but attempts to come up with a suitable handle were thwarted by not knowing his gender. So Pavarotti has sort of stuck.]
Of course we haven't heard him or seen him.
Z did speak to the next-door neighbor, and confirmed that he'd heard the kitten too, but had assumed it was just Cookie-- Cookie being the long-haired black-and-white lovey that lives two doors the other direction and proudly owns all of our yards as well as the high school's playing fields across the street. Cookie occasionally presents him/herself in our driveway for petting.
Cookie is not usually one for loud vocal displays, but he/she (hey, it's hard to tell on a neutered cat you're only passingly acquainted with) has been known to hold conversations with interloping cats, so it's not unknown.
This isn't a neighborhood with a lot of stray animals, though-- high population density, no alleyways or wooded areas, and years of effective spay-neuter campaigns by the ASPCA have seen to that. I really think the kitten was adopted by someone and ran off in confusion before he had a chance to figure out where "home" was.
Maybe his original adopters found him.
In other news, am working SCW's schedule while she's on vacation, which means I get out 1-3 hours earlier, but also that I have to go in 3 hours earlier. So, not getting anything done during the days, although I'm currently working on the laundry. Not sure everything will be dry by the time I have to go-- bah! But I insist on an attempt at line-drying. Nothing whitens whites better than the sun, in my opinion.
But that means that tonight I'm going to make an attempt to get to the roller derby open skate, wherein I will try on roller skates and determine my size once and for all. Whereupon I will blow $500 on rollerskates For The Ages.
I feel better about the price tag because yesterday enroute to work I deposited $510 in cash in the HSBC account, all of which I had pulled out of my wallet upon realizing I had too much money in there. I'd been not making much in cash lately, I'd thought, so I haven't deposited much all summer.
Money just tends to fritter away in the summer, doesn't it? I was on my bank's website last night and noticed that they have a financial planner online worksheet thingy, so I played with that for about 45 minutes-- determining that I am in dire need of all sorts of things I don't actually need (estate planning? life insurance? I have no dependents and no estate. I just figure if I die catastrophically my parents and Z can work out something to do with my money and my stuff. Whatever. There are more upsetting things involved in that thought than who's going to get my... um... I don't own anything valuable to end that sentence with. My most expensive possession is far and away this computer.)
But I filled out their budgeting worksheet, and found it much more difficult than I'd anticipated to figure out where all my money goes.
Also the worksheet I made myself my senior year of college, using my rudimentary JavaScript and the worksheet my student loan company gave me on paper, was far more effective, in that it started with what you had and told you how much to spend on everything else. I should find that and post it.
[I had theorized that he should be named for a blues musician, given how soulful his wails were, and of course he being a black cat, but attempts to come up with a suitable handle were thwarted by not knowing his gender. So Pavarotti has sort of stuck.]
Of course we haven't heard him or seen him.
Z did speak to the next-door neighbor, and confirmed that he'd heard the kitten too, but had assumed it was just Cookie-- Cookie being the long-haired black-and-white lovey that lives two doors the other direction and proudly owns all of our yards as well as the high school's playing fields across the street. Cookie occasionally presents him/herself in our driveway for petting.
Cookie is not usually one for loud vocal displays, but he/she (hey, it's hard to tell on a neutered cat you're only passingly acquainted with) has been known to hold conversations with interloping cats, so it's not unknown.
This isn't a neighborhood with a lot of stray animals, though-- high population density, no alleyways or wooded areas, and years of effective spay-neuter campaigns by the ASPCA have seen to that. I really think the kitten was adopted by someone and ran off in confusion before he had a chance to figure out where "home" was.
Maybe his original adopters found him.
In other news, am working SCW's schedule while she's on vacation, which means I get out 1-3 hours earlier, but also that I have to go in 3 hours earlier. So, not getting anything done during the days, although I'm currently working on the laundry. Not sure everything will be dry by the time I have to go-- bah! But I insist on an attempt at line-drying. Nothing whitens whites better than the sun, in my opinion.
But that means that tonight I'm going to make an attempt to get to the roller derby open skate, wherein I will try on roller skates and determine my size once and for all. Whereupon I will blow $500 on rollerskates For The Ages.
I feel better about the price tag because yesterday enroute to work I deposited $510 in cash in the HSBC account, all of which I had pulled out of my wallet upon realizing I had too much money in there. I'd been not making much in cash lately, I'd thought, so I haven't deposited much all summer.
Money just tends to fritter away in the summer, doesn't it? I was on my bank's website last night and noticed that they have a financial planner online worksheet thingy, so I played with that for about 45 minutes-- determining that I am in dire need of all sorts of things I don't actually need (estate planning? life insurance? I have no dependents and no estate. I just figure if I die catastrophically my parents and Z can work out something to do with my money and my stuff. Whatever. There are more upsetting things involved in that thought than who's going to get my... um... I don't own anything valuable to end that sentence with. My most expensive possession is far and away this computer.)
But I filled out their budgeting worksheet, and found it much more difficult than I'd anticipated to figure out where all my money goes.
Also the worksheet I made myself my senior year of college, using my rudimentary JavaScript and the worksheet my student loan company gave me on paper, was far more effective, in that it started with what you had and told you how much to spend on everything else. I should find that and post it.
