Aluminum foil baking ware and squirt guns

Hello folks, and welcome to this edition of Lady Lazarus: Resurrected. Today we feature maintenance men with huge, tattoo-covered biceps, an assortment of cords, kitchen blockades and the cats who burst through them, and Aladdin Kleenex. So be sure to stay put as we craft this magnificent piece of blog art.

Okay, first off, I didn't sleep well last night. Scratch that. That makes it sound as though I slept. So, what went wrong? Let me tell you. Drizzt was a component of this, as he has been almost since I got him. But it is a bit worse now, as all the commotion confused him as to wear exactly he was supposed to do his business. That or he never really learned the first time, and I have a lot more work ahead of me than I thought. Anyway(s), little Drizzt has diarrhea, something fierce. The vet says he's fine, and to just keep an eye on him, so that's what I've been doing. Drizzt has a few chosen favorite corners. Unfortunately, only one of these corners contains a litter box. Before you go saying anything, let me assure you: now *all* his corners have litter boxes. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

So I wake up three or four times a night to the sounds of scratching on the walls. He does this whenever there is no litter to scratch in. I'm glad he does it, although I won't be later when he's scratching for fun. Why, then, am I happy about the scratching? Because then I can run to the corner, scoop up the kitten, plop him in the litter box and clean up his mess. If he didn't scratch, the stuff might set in. This is brand new carpet. I'm not anxious for it to stain, and so far, I've managed to avoid that as well as might be expected. I could do better, if he could do better. But I'm not bitter. He's a kitten. Really, getting mad does nothing. Absolutely nothing.

So he went twice last night, and I managed to catch him before he pooped all over the corner once. The other time, I sighed, and got a few paper towels. But I caught him once! That's not too bad.

Other than that, Drizzt has a habit of waking up at about five in the morning, on average. That's fine. What isn't fine is that he expects me to wake up then as well. I'm not willing to do that. So he attempts to burrow between my head and the pillow. When that fails, he bats at my nose, and sticks his face in my eyes. I end up tossing him on the floor some six or seven times before he gets the idea and settles for attacking my toes. I can deal with that.

There is the first factor in my sleepless night. The second is an industrial strength fan (the kind they use to dry interior paint jobs or wet carpets over short periods of time). This fan was switched on at about ten at night. It was switched off at nine-thirty this morning. That's some screwy timing, if you ask me. Why not have the nasty thing blowing when people are mostly at work or at least awake? Huh? What run it at night? Are they sadists? I'd rather listen to yodeling, or sex, or the amputee children of the pool. Oh dear God. They just now turned the fan on again. It's what, a whole two thirty or something, right? They better turn that thing off by eight, or I'm calling the police for noise control. "I'll sign papers about it, no problem. Where's the dotted line, officer? And they get fined how much for disturbing the peace? Excellent. Well, thank you, officer. Have a nice evening." On the odd side, I *just started* typing about the fan, and they turned it on. Just like that. Maybe I'd better go check Drizzt's corners. I'll be right back.

Well. That was interesting. And then, this girl, she's typing on her blog, and some people knock on the door and offer her lots and lots of money. It's unexpected, to be sure, but they just hand it to her, all of it legal, and none of it taxable. Very nice of them, and very nice people. And very nice money. Enough to pay for schooling, and to take about a year off to write as she so desires.

Huh. I just checked outside, and my odd luck streak just wore off. Third time's not a charm. But I'll keep you posted on anonymous offers of money. Just in case this time, it's a delayed reaction. Back to the blog.

Well, Drizzt, and the fan. And the air conditioner. My parents were here, in case you missed that post, and Dad likes to sleep with it cold. Or maybe I just like it toasty warm, but either way, someone (not me) turned it *way* down, and I spent the night under my covers shivering. The cat did, too. Until two-thirty, when he woke up early.

So, no sleep. Called the phone company. Interesting story there. Damn company sells me package A. Fine. I bought it, right? Damn company sends bill for package A, plus installation or sommat. Fine. It's a one-time expense, I can deal. Damn company sends me a long distance calling card, that only a fool would use (the print isn't even fine, it's an openly bad deal). Fine. I shred the thing. No loss there. Damn company sends me a letter claiming that I have rights as their customer, and that they cannot add anything to my bill without my approval. No shit. Really? Damn company sends bill for package A, plus nearly twenty dollars for International Long Distance Plan B which I did not sign up for, or even use. Wait a second. Let's go back. They tell me they can't screw with my bill, then they add a service, and charge me for it. Okay, it sounds as bad the second time around. Huh. Well, I call, and they're very sorry. I'm sure they are. They're sorry they got caught. So I tell them "I want to change my account. I tell them I want one residential line. I want caller ID. And I want *nothing* else. Got it? I'm aware of your offers, but I tried that. I want nothing else. No thank you, ma'am, just what I already requested, nothing more. Yes. Thank you. Goodbye."

That's now taken care of, I hope. I have to go buy an answering machine, so I can get messages, but it's a whole lot better than voice mail anyway, and I only pay for it once. Wow. What a concept.

I promised you a story about bicep man and the toilet seat of doom, didn't I? In that first para. Well, okay. My dad found a part of the toilet that wasn't part of the toilet anymore. One of the thingies that holds the seat to the rest of the thing. Yeah. I'm real knowledgeable, huh? So I take the thing over to the office, and tell T-- that my toilet is now missing "this" part. So she takes the part, and sends the maintenance guy over. This guy is huge, people. He towers over me. Stop laughing! I'm short, yes, and yes, most people tower over me. But this guy puts them to shame. This guy had to duck to get in the door. I'd say he was like a bear, but that's an overdone simile. He was more like a biker. A really big, burly, mountain man biker, who must have shaved his grizzled beard before coming over. He had tattoos up and down both arms, and wore hiking boots. This guy could beat the backtalk out of anyone he chose. I was very uneasy at first, but he was nice, quite polite, and he fixed my toilet. So that is the maintenance guy here. A little scary, but not bad.

Next in my first para is a ditty about cords. You might remember in previous postings my mentioning Drizzt's penchant for cords. In short, he munches on them. And I couldn't spend too much time on the computer without having to keep the cat away. This problem has hopefully been solved. I took a big box with a hole in either end, and I stuck the power strip in the box, reconnected every cord in the area to go into the back hole, and put the few special cords so that they came out the front hole. That would be the internet cord and the battery cord. The rest are contained. Not only that, but the power strip and open sockets are covered in the box. So when Drizzt starts to chew, I squirt him. He's not happy about that spray bottle, and he has apparently learned the lesson. However, I have a feeling this lesson, like the litter box lesson, will be a gradual, continual learning process, with a few setbacks along the way.

I went to the Dollar General today to buy aluminum foil bake ware. It's cheap, sturdy enough for a litter box, and did I mention cheap? I have five litter boxes now, scattered in Drizzt's favorite corners. Now if he really wants to go behind the chair instead of where I'd prefer, he can at least refrain from soiling the carpet. They're a new installation, and I don't know if it will work. But I *do* know that vinegar does *not* work. I put vinegar in his corners, and he seemed to like them more. I have never heard of a cat that liked the smell of vinegar. Only I could choose, of all kitties, the one oddball of the bunch.

While at the Dollar General, I also purchased two sturdy baskets. I have the intention of sleeping well in a few nights, because Drizzt will be learning to sleep in the basket. I have placed in the larger basket green fluffy, the green fleece blanket I curl up in when I'm cold. It smells like me, it's the same fleece I have on my bed that he loves to curl up in, and Mom can always make me another lap quilt, out of flannel or sommat that will replace green fluffy. It's worth the sacrifice for a good night's sleep. I'll sleep with it on the bed tonight, and when he starts burrowing, I'll put him in his basket. Eventually, he'll get to like the basket... or if not, it is a nice basket, and I can find something else for it to do here.

During this shopping trip, I had to find a place for Drizzt to stay that wasn't carpeted, so I put a huge chunk of wood in front of the kitchen doorway (there is no door; that would have made it more successful), and braced it with a chair. He had food, water, litter box, toys, and green fluffy. But in the half hour I was away, he busted out. Luckily, he was asleep on the futon, and not at the door waiting for me to open it wide enough for him to escape. That might have been disastrous. But now I have so many litter boxes, I can leave him in the bedroom again and be fine. That has a door, so he can't get out. No more jailbreaks for baby Drizzt.

Mom and Dad left this morning, on discovering how little there was to do here. But I did get to take them to the peacock place for dinner. Peacocks are God's most irritating avian creation. I hate peacocks, in a general sense. They're pretty, but the pretty wears off quick when one lives on your roof screaming all the time. They're okay in my book, as long as they are quiet, or far away, or on the other side of a window. So this place is great, because they are all three. Well, not all three at the same time, but the peacocks at this place do not annoy me.

And here go for the last promised point. I have Aladdin Kleenex since it was part of the back to school three pack. It's kind of cute. I think I'll save the box, put mints in it or something.

Well, I hope the length of this post made up for the shortness/non existence of the others. Can't promise long posts, since there's nothing going on, really, but oh well. I'll be back some time. Take care.

End.