Lurgey, thwartedness, crying goats, soggy cats, confused ducks and awaiting boxes.
I've been moping about the place the last few days as I have contracted lurgey. On the first day I ignored it and went out to pull fireweed, but flagged rather quickly; it turns out sun is only good for defeating illness if taken in small measures. The days since have been spent in various stages of better/worse health whilst drinking a lot of spiced tea with honey and also bourbon.
I have also been waiting for all our boxes to arrive. We were told they'd be here monday, but that was an exaggeration. Apparently they'll be here tomorrow at 10am. Whilst I look forward to having access to all my craft things, my books and my clothes, I am a little apprehensive. Our room is probably just about big enough to fit two double beds in it, but one wouldn't be able to open the door nor walk on the floor. There is a closet, but no shelves or other storage space. In short, I have no fucking clue where we're gonna put any of our stuff nor access or use it once we have. Oh, and that's not to mention the fact our ex-flatmates in Capo Beach left not only our packed boxes out (in the rain) for the removal company, but also vast yet uncatalogued amount of stuff we had left there because they very specifically said they wanted it. This -er- 'good deed' act of stupidity vexing change of agreement cost K a grand and a half in excess fees.
What else? My goatling Lilikoi has developed a 'death bleat'. Instead of her usual rising pitch 'MaaAAAH' it has now turned into a near scream of 'MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!' when she feels abandoned. Sometimes she does it so loudly she loses her voice. Goatlings are very strange creatures.
Today I tried to have a shower: Flint scurried in before I shut the door. I left him and the door as they were and turned on the water... Flint galloped like a mad thing up onto the bathroom counter, then across where he jumped onto the loo seat... and then freaked himself out and fell into the loo. He rocketed out, trying to propel himself not only back onto the counter but up a wooden candle stick that tipped over and almost deposited him back into the loo before I caught both it and him. Result? One unhappy but surprisingly un-drenched chitten and one distracted and un-showered corvid.
This is not the end to the animal antics in the household. There are two ducks that live in the garden; a dun/tan female and a black/green-sheen'd male with a ridiculous round pompom of feathers on his head. He's called Puff. Puff likes to think that the safety and honour of his lady is always at stake, and, that he is a ninja. This means he will often quack at people as they pass and then lower his head and body (to make him invisible) and chase them. He watches, he stalks, he chases, he attacks! But in truth his attacks are as ineffectual as his hiding skills; his pecking really doesn't hurt. Usually after being annoyed by Puff for a while someone will grab him and throw him into the air: he's fat and whilst he can fly his landings are rubbish. However, I've decided on a new tactic. I've decided he's just attention starved: now every time he chases me I turn round and start stroking him. Puff has no idea what to make of this and is now fascinated and terrified of me in equal measure and can't decide whether to run towards or away from me. I of course find this hilarious (which doesn't help my cough.)
Strange to think really; I never thought I'd end up on the far side of the world having to deal with random farm animals. (And we haven't even ordered our forty chickens yet...)
I have also been waiting for all our boxes to arrive. We were told they'd be here monday, but that was an exaggeration. Apparently they'll be here tomorrow at 10am. Whilst I look forward to having access to all my craft things, my books and my clothes, I am a little apprehensive. Our room is probably just about big enough to fit two double beds in it, but one wouldn't be able to open the door nor walk on the floor. There is a closet, but no shelves or other storage space. In short, I have no fucking clue where we're gonna put any of our stuff nor access or use it once we have. Oh, and that's not to mention the fact our ex-flatmates in Capo Beach left not only our packed boxes out (in the rain) for the removal company, but also vast yet uncatalogued amount of stuff we had left there because they very specifically said they wanted it. This -er- 'good deed' act of stupidity vexing change of agreement cost K a grand and a half in excess fees.
What else? My goatling Lilikoi has developed a 'death bleat'. Instead of her usual rising pitch 'MaaAAAH' it has now turned into a near scream of 'MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!' when she feels abandoned. Sometimes she does it so loudly she loses her voice. Goatlings are very strange creatures.
Today I tried to have a shower: Flint scurried in before I shut the door. I left him and the door as they were and turned on the water... Flint galloped like a mad thing up onto the bathroom counter, then across where he jumped onto the loo seat... and then freaked himself out and fell into the loo. He rocketed out, trying to propel himself not only back onto the counter but up a wooden candle stick that tipped over and almost deposited him back into the loo before I caught both it and him. Result? One unhappy but surprisingly un-drenched chitten and one distracted and un-showered corvid.
This is not the end to the animal antics in the household. There are two ducks that live in the garden; a dun/tan female and a black/green-sheen'd male with a ridiculous round pompom of feathers on his head. He's called Puff. Puff likes to think that the safety and honour of his lady is always at stake, and, that he is a ninja. This means he will often quack at people as they pass and then lower his head and body (to make him invisible) and chase them. He watches, he stalks, he chases, he attacks! But in truth his attacks are as ineffectual as his hiding skills; his pecking really doesn't hurt. Usually after being annoyed by Puff for a while someone will grab him and throw him into the air: he's fat and whilst he can fly his landings are rubbish. However, I've decided on a new tactic. I've decided he's just attention starved: now every time he chases me I turn round and start stroking him. Puff has no idea what to make of this and is now fascinated and terrified of me in equal measure and can't decide whether to run towards or away from me. I of course find this hilarious (which doesn't help my cough.)
Strange to think really; I never thought I'd end up on the far side of the world having to deal with random farm animals. (And we haven't even ordered our forty chickens yet...)