T-Minus 16 Days (a.k.a I love old men)
Last night was INSANE:
I rushed home after work to meet the guy who was taking my extra cat carriers. He arrives a few minutes after I do, and I ran outside to meet him. Picture, if you will: an old man driving an old, two-colored Dodge pick-up. Yes!
After I handed over the carriers we got to talking and he tells me that he's off to Maine for work and needs the carriers to bring these two cats he just adopted with him. He then tells me of a cat he once owned called, "Zipper," that he would take with him on his trucking jobs, where the women on the dispatch would call over the radio: "Hey, Mountain Man! I wanna come over and play with your zipper!"
"Har, har, har, har!" cackles the old man at his own joke, and then launches into another story about when he had a cat house. o.O
I'm sorry...what?!
When he saw my face he clarified that it was a cattery, though he did, at one time, inadvertently run a cat house. The way he told it he rented out a house he owned to a couple of young ladies, who he realized after a time were offering their, uh...services out of the house. With a "to each his own" attitude he decides to help them out by keeping an eye out for the police, while setting up an escape route the via the fire-escape for them and their johns if the police did show up. "Har, har, har, har!"
And keep in mind that this whole story is being delivered by a merry old man who looks like a Gloucester fisherman, complete with a white beard, one squinty eye, a baseball cap, and rubber fishing gloves...standing in the rain on my sidewalk holding a cat carrier in each hand.
"Har, har, har, har!"
Anyone who knows me, probably can guess by this time that I was in love with this geezer. Le sigh...but I had to go back inside, and sent him on his way.
P.S. His name was David, which just solidifies my theory that all dirty old men named David are wonderful and lovely. AAA? You agree, right?
So back inside I started shredding the cheese for the lasagna in the food processor, because my roommate refuses to learn how, even though it's her processor. I asked her what she was going to do when I wasn't around to shred cheese, and she replied (in her laid-back valium-esque drawl, "Weeeeeell....maybe....the subletter can dooooo it. We should ask hiiiim."
Yes, before you come to live with us, subletter, I must ask you: Can you shred cheese?
Then my friend N. calls to say she's on her way to take my fish, but that she's kind of lost. I sat down on google maps to guide her, and right then the potential subletter shows up. My roommate takes care of him while I guide N. to the house.
And by "take care" I mean she forgot his name an hour after meeting him: "I'm soooooorry....what was your naaaaaaaaaaaame?"
Food ends up on the table, N. arrives and we sit down to eat. N. scarfs the lasagna and then I help her take the fish and sundry out to her car and see her on her way. I come back inside to finish my dinner, to find that my cat is already on the table eating it.
Then the doorbell rings because it's this other guy who's shown up to take my kitchen hutch. I help the guy carry the heavy, cumbersome thing outside, and send him packing.
Finally, FINALLY, I brewed a nice, hot cup of tea and sat down to talk with S. and the subletter. Was starting to have a nice conversation about the sheer awesomeness of Korean movies when I knocked the nice, scalding cup of tea onto my lap and arm. I ran screaming, "Fuck! Fuck!" to my room to strip off the pants, and S.followed me drawling, "Oh....are you okaaaaaaaaaaaay?!"
10 minutes later I'm soaking in a nice, ice-cold bath, shivering and cursing the world, while the subletter's calling out that I should slather my burns in toothpaste. "Use toothpaste! Tooooooooooothpaste!"
Needless to say my endurance was spent, and by the time I managed to fall asleep that night (my burning, twitching leg kept me up for quite a while) I was exhausted.
So...
1) Got rid of my stupid hutch, the fish, two cat carriers
2) Fell in love
3) Acquired a subletter
4) Cooked the flesh of my thigh and arm
5) Shredded some cheese
Awesome.
I rushed home after work to meet the guy who was taking my extra cat carriers. He arrives a few minutes after I do, and I ran outside to meet him. Picture, if you will: an old man driving an old, two-colored Dodge pick-up. Yes!
After I handed over the carriers we got to talking and he tells me that he's off to Maine for work and needs the carriers to bring these two cats he just adopted with him. He then tells me of a cat he once owned called, "Zipper," that he would take with him on his trucking jobs, where the women on the dispatch would call over the radio: "Hey, Mountain Man! I wanna come over and play with your zipper!"
"Har, har, har, har!" cackles the old man at his own joke, and then launches into another story about when he had a cat house. o.O
I'm sorry...what?!
When he saw my face he clarified that it was a cattery, though he did, at one time, inadvertently run a cat house. The way he told it he rented out a house he owned to a couple of young ladies, who he realized after a time were offering their, uh...services out of the house. With a "to each his own" attitude he decides to help them out by keeping an eye out for the police, while setting up an escape route the via the fire-escape for them and their johns if the police did show up. "Har, har, har, har!"
And keep in mind that this whole story is being delivered by a merry old man who looks like a Gloucester fisherman, complete with a white beard, one squinty eye, a baseball cap, and rubber fishing gloves...standing in the rain on my sidewalk holding a cat carrier in each hand.
"Har, har, har, har!"
Anyone who knows me, probably can guess by this time that I was in love with this geezer. Le sigh...but I had to go back inside, and sent him on his way.
P.S. His name was David, which just solidifies my theory that all dirty old men named David are wonderful and lovely. AAA? You agree, right?
So back inside I started shredding the cheese for the lasagna in the food processor, because my roommate refuses to learn how, even though it's her processor. I asked her what she was going to do when I wasn't around to shred cheese, and she replied (in her laid-back valium-esque drawl, "Weeeeeell....maybe....the subletter can dooooo it. We should ask hiiiim."
Yes, before you come to live with us, subletter, I must ask you: Can you shred cheese?
Then my friend N. calls to say she's on her way to take my fish, but that she's kind of lost. I sat down on google maps to guide her, and right then the potential subletter shows up. My roommate takes care of him while I guide N. to the house.
And by "take care" I mean she forgot his name an hour after meeting him: "I'm soooooorry....what was your naaaaaaaaaaaame?"
Food ends up on the table, N. arrives and we sit down to eat. N. scarfs the lasagna and then I help her take the fish and sundry out to her car and see her on her way. I come back inside to finish my dinner, to find that my cat is already on the table eating it.
Then the doorbell rings because it's this other guy who's shown up to take my kitchen hutch. I help the guy carry the heavy, cumbersome thing outside, and send him packing.
Finally, FINALLY, I brewed a nice, hot cup of tea and sat down to talk with S. and the subletter. Was starting to have a nice conversation about the sheer awesomeness of Korean movies when I knocked the nice, scalding cup of tea onto my lap and arm. I ran screaming, "Fuck! Fuck!" to my room to strip off the pants, and S.followed me drawling, "Oh....are you okaaaaaaaaaaaay?!"
10 minutes later I'm soaking in a nice, ice-cold bath, shivering and cursing the world, while the subletter's calling out that I should slather my burns in toothpaste. "Use toothpaste! Tooooooooooothpaste!"
Needless to say my endurance was spent, and by the time I managed to fall asleep that night (my burning, twitching leg kept me up for quite a while) I was exhausted.
So...
1) Got rid of my stupid hutch, the fish, two cat carriers
2) Fell in love
3) Acquired a subletter
4) Cooked the flesh of my thigh and arm
5) Shredded some cheese
Awesome.