Greetings.

There's only one word to describe my new toy, and that's "nice." Say it in a soft and smooth voice, with the "n" drawn out. Almost purr that word. I know I did.

This computer has a great many features the old one did not. For instance, the screen does not go blank for long periods of time, seemingly at random. All the cords are snug, so I don't have to physically hold a cord in place to keep the computer running. The cat doesn't seem to care much about this one, where she repeatedly tried to rub the other against her gums. This one actually turns on. And stays on. So you can see I've got a good reason to purr "nice" at it every time it obeys me. And the screen is larger.

Well, enough praise for little Lazarus. Here's what I've been up to:

This afternoon, I'm off to see March of the Penguins with an officemate, followed by soup (the entree, not the movie ... is "soup" playing anywhere?). Since I'm a nature freak, and a documentary freak, this should be good.

Charlotte has decided that I am no longer allowed to sleep past seven. Now that she knows I can be roused at that hour, she is determined to keep me roused. She bats things off the nightstand, and then carts them away. She attempts to climb the gecko quilt I have hanging in that area. She gets up near the head of the bed and eats the curtains. Every time, I direct a squirt of water at her, adjusted to a very thin jet. I can hit her all the way across the apartment with it, and so I chase her out of the bedroom every time she does one of the aforementioned things. Then she comes back. Curiously, she shows no signs of this behavior once I'm out of bed. I have never once come home to find more items missing from the nightstand. The curtains and quilt never look worse for wear on my return. But damn, that cat wants me up early.

A few nights ago, I was sound asleep, when there was a loud knocking at my door. This of course immediately woke me up, and I was nothing short of pissed off when a glance at the clock revealed the time to be 3:27 am. I ignored the knocking, and tried to go back to sleep, thinking that whoever it was would realize that either no one is home, or that no one who is home wants to talk. Five minutes later, I was drifting back to sleep, and the knocking resumes, louder. I got up, threw on a bathrobe, on the off chance that I'd have to open the door for police, or something, and walked to the living room to wait for a third knock. Sure enough, whoever it was was a persistent little bugger. I went to the door and preceded to have a conversation through the barrier, since it wasn't police, or any other emergency personel. It went something along these lines:

Me: What do you want?
Him (it was a him, with a high pitched voice unsuited to yelling through doors): Is Elizabeth here?
Me: No, now go away.
Him: What?
Me: It's three F-ing thirty in the morning! Leave me alone.
Him: Do you know where Elizabeth is?
Me: I don't know an Elizabeth, and if you knock on this door again, I'm calling the cops!
Him: Ok.

At this point, Pudge wandered off and I felt the tiniest twinge of guilt for not being more polite. Then I looked at the clock and realized it was actually a little after four in the morning, and all traces of my remorse vanished. I actually quite enjoy being awake that early in the morning. For me, it is natural. However, when the sleep schedule has been moved to match that of "normal" folks, it no longer accommodates wakefulness at such times of the day. When I am awake at this time, I make my knocks on doors as quiet as possible, if I even knock in the first place. Courtesy demands that we night owls at least try not to disturb the early birds around us. Just as no early bird should blast music at eight am, so no night owl should go banging on doors after midnight. If the two tribes can maintain common courtesy for each other, no wars will break out. And let me tell you, sleep wars are nasty, nasty things. There are no winners in a sleep war. Only irate soldiers, and busy courtesy officers.

In any case, I do not feel at all guilty for not opening the door and talking to the guy. First, I'm not stupid, and it just isn't safe to do that. Second, I was wearing a bathrobe, and little else. Third, there was no reason to accomodate someone who lacks manners. If when you knock you get silence, and the lights are all off, then go away. I mean, really.

But there you have it. Other than this, I've been working, and reading. And playing with the cat, of course.

Have nice days.

End.