Super Catt
The last few days have been spent priming the attic apartment walls and ceiling. At first it was tedious and exhausting, but, as I got into the swing of it, I've become a bit of a painting whiz and am really enjoying the zen of covering dem surfaces in a pale grey paint. The attic is filled with pokey little crannies, so there have been some rather tricky contortion going on, but I'm well pleased with how pristine the place now looks, all readied for their final coats of glory. I feel a deep feeling of accomplishment, and we're both highly anticipating moving out of this tiny bedroom into the apartment/attic when it's complete - there's the motivation.
There was intially a bit of debate over the colours selected (I enjoy cool colours, Wade likes warm), but we finally settled on a darkish tuscan-ish orange for the main walls, deep red for the bedroom, cream for the ceilings and a blue-grey ('Lone Wolf') for the bathroom. It's going to be interesting, indeed. So I'm covered in splatterings of paint, and have been at it since 8:30 a.m. I'm ready for the actual colours now. Primer is bloody boring. As is this post, so...
Gin arrives tonight at 7ish!! Best news, ever. I'm a wee tad bit anxious, as I'm worried about the state she'll be in, and especially where to keep her litter tray so as not to impose (further) on the other housemates, but I'm mostly excited to see her. I bet she doesn't even remember me - cats are finicky and cruelly adaptable like that. She's being delivered to our door by godsend Jef (rambleman), of whom I now owe countless firstborns and baked goods. Jef shall be reaping the rewards of his generosity for years to come, I warrant.
I just enjoyed my first Halloween, and I knew we Australians were missing out on the good stuff. It has always been my favourite holiday, and now I can celebrate it in full, instead of just having dinky Halloween parties with friends and no actual trick or treating.
Yesterday I saw a mole! Not of the "get your hands off my boyfriend, you mole" variety, but of the blind, squirming about in the undergrowth type. You Americans have too many fucking adorable critters. I also smelt a dead skunk on the road several weeks ago, and it was, indeed, horrid.
A fleeting sighting of a raccoon eating a pumpkin in the backyard is all I have to my name right now, but one day I shall see one in full. It darted back under the porch as soon as I came outside. Soon, raccoon, soon.
Lastly, Mars gives me (and all of us, really) Hobocop;
