Aw Diddums

I had another blog post in mind for tonight but wasn’t feeling particularly chirpy… it will keep for tomorrow. I thought I had been getting on OK with a particular crowd (nothing to do with blogging), then realized some of them would talk to the ‘usual’ people while leaving me out, no matter how often my name came up in the conversation. There seemed no particular reason for it, and maybe there really wasn’t one; it was just habit. I know people communicate in different ways and probably aren’t thinking about it that hard.

I realized today that the same crowd talk to each other on another site… could well be why they feel they all know each other, whereas I’m not one of the merry band. It’s just sheer coincidence that I turned up there anyway.

Goodness, I do know that people have different conversational habits and needs and sometimes don’t realize how they are coming across; the other night I spent an hour or two designing a silly 3D kitchen for my sister (using daft graphics as textures and patterns) because I thought it would make her laugh. Her email response was: “too modern”. I know she probably laughed anyway, and it’s her habit to make the short, dry understatement; she’s known for it. We make jokes about how “quite nice” is high praise coming from her. It’s just that sometimes I need evidence of that laugh… or a watery smile would do.

There’s nothing worse than being demanding or pushing for attention, but sometimes being patient and accepting gets very hard… why did it come in mind that someone blogged today (or recently) about patience being active rather than passive? I think it was a post for BlogFriday’s word ‘active’, come to think of it. It’s a state of mind that has to be kept in place despite all wobbles.

I wound up in a fit of the doldrums and trailed off to watch my TV at the back of the room, Delilah purring on my lap. We watched Celebrity Come Dine with Me, Cotton Wool Kids, and something about Chinese schoolchildren slaving away for their exams. There were some very young kids in the programme and Delilah turned round and stared. I think she would have batted cat toys around for them if they had been in the room.

Eventually I rose to check for messages on the new site. Earlier I’d seen someone’s name there, someone I liked normally but didn’t talk much to, and left a quick message saying “hi, it’s me from (the other site), just thought I would say hello.” I kept it short and casual as she probably wouldn’t want to be conversational. I checked my messages and there was one from her, saying “oh, great to see you here! (Hugs). What a surprise. Do you know X, Y, and Z are here too?”

And… I felt so much better! Well the sadness won’t go away just like that, especially as I now have a headache (aw diddums), but it was wonderful to be greeted so pleasantly! Tomorrow perspective will return – but has already made a start, sending me the estimated arrival time of its train. And then I will write the other blog post I was planning.

Just passing these along… hugs to anyone out there who needed a few.

Something I didn’t bargain for was how much dirtier the litter tray would be with two kittens visiting it all day every day (along with the occasional visit from an older cat). Sharky’s tray tended to stay quite clean because he often went outside. The kittens aren’t allowed out (till Delilah’s op) and so the litter box has no escape. Nor has the box washer.

It’s not cleaning it that I mind – not so much as the periodic aromas. Somebody always seems to raise a stink just when I’ve put my feet up for five minutes with a nice relaxing coffee. If I want to enjoy my drink, I have to abandon it immediately to scoop out the poops. I can’t freshen the room by throwing open the windows – the kittens would be bound to plop out onto the concrete and railings below. I have to crack the bathroom window open just a fraction – it’s heavy, high up, and doesn’t bring itself to the notice of the kittens as something to be weeviled away at. After scooping the poops, that’s the best I can do to clear the atmosphere.

I sit down again with my cooling coffee, still smelling smells I wish away, and after a moment of peace, there’s more busy scratching from the corner… kitten two has just followed kitten one’s pawsteps.

Instead of mumbling about it, I should be grateful that these kittens are so well housetrained. It might not seem like roses all the way, but when a pet is ‘eliminating inappropriately’ (for reasons of nervousness, poor training or illness) that can be a nightmare.

This was my BlogFriday post for the word ‘dirty’.

This morning Mum was rushing around looking for her car keys, and eventually left without them. Two minutes after her departure, I found them laid out on the stairs – they’d been stolen by the kittens. Nothing is safe with those two – they have shredded Mum’s headphones and played basketball with her watch. I expect she misses Sharky just as much as I do!

I laughed out loud at a couple of posts I moved across from Blogigo, mostly at the comments:

Tempus Fugit
Stark Realization

It was a relief to find ones I wanted to move rather than delete.

I wish I could have kept up more with the BlogFriday prompts, as some good words have gone by. I found quite an angry little post yesterday (about Jolly) which could have been used for the word ‘judgemental’!

By popular demand, I have restored my old avatar – I have to say I’m pleased to see that bear’s face again. He won a big class, you know! I also figured out how to add some rather clumsy subscription links to the foot of the sidebar – I didn’t realize at first they weren’t automatically part of the layout. There’s one for this blog, and another for the comments.

I was struggling to come up with something for this week’s BlogFriday word, ‘tears’. I could research and write something factual, tell a sad or a funny story – I could talk about my tears, or someone else’s. We all have them, even if we have to squeeze them out of a bottle.

I wish I could have written Katyboo’s The self fulfilling Caucus Race – it reduced me to tears of laughter. I’m glad she went ahead and wrote it down anyway; I couldn’t have, mostly because I haven’t gone through her particular experiences. On reflection, I’m quite glad of that. I found her when following some tags the other day, and had to wrestle with an unworthy desire to keep her all to myself.

When you’re not gifted with so much ebullient humour, ‘tears’ is a hard word to write about. I don’t want my blog to be angry or miserable, though at the same time I want it to represent the life I’m really living. I was wrestling with these feelings when I got up this morning, and about the first thing I saw on my computer screen (apart from the 3D wallpaper from Caedes and an unsorted rank of desktop icons) was my horoscope for today.

“However you feel is how you feel, so don’t try to hide it. If other people are uncomfortable with your anger, your happiness, or whatever emotion you’re exhibiting, that is just too bad for them. You’re not a robot, so why should you act like one? Beware of people who think that hiding how you really feel is some sort of superior, more powerful way to be. Not acknowledging your feelings can become a very unhealthy habit – one that can keep you from having honest connections with others.”

Alright then… wasn’t the word ‘tears’? I have a bottle of them beside my bed.

The optician’s receptionist (I nearly called her the optionist) gave me them for nothing when I was complaining about gritty eyes. They don’t feel any less tired, but I smiled this morning at how shiny they were… it just struck me as funny, all of a sudden. I’m sitting-up mud with dark eyes glimmering out at everything. Just look at all of you, reading my blog. Take away the spectacles, the veils, the hats, the hoods, the hair and the sleepy, rubbing fists… behind them are eyes so shiny they’re like mirrors.

These drippy bad boys are full of natural painkillers. When your middle gets icy cold, that’s almost physical pain, not just emotional. The heat seems to squeeze out through your eyes.

The two of us living here in Mum’s house were supposed to be having an adventure. Thence we had fled, abandoning our own home. While Mum got on with things downstairs, we were playing Anne Frank in the attic, hiding out upstairs and sneaking down for food. Sharky was the last of four cats, and when he died, it was as though I was losing everything all over again: not just his love and companionship, but the entire feline crowd, our house, and the life we lived together.

Ah! Those halycon days! Those days when Thor was beating up everybody except the giant Maine Coon in the next street, when Lucky smiled at me from the back door, and Fusspot teased the seagulls and made them stress out all over my washing. Those days when I had an office to dislike with cordial passion, cat shows to get incomprehensibly excited over, and Star Trek Voyager showing every week on BBC2 at 6 PM. Just like Lister in the Red Dwarf, I’d settle down with my curries and shandy and didn’t have to worry about someone else wanting the Antique Roadshow instead. The cats weren’t into clocks and Welsh dressers.

I thought he’d be with me for years yet, with his kind wisdom, energy and humour. The two of us had moved away but could return if we wanted, to the scolding seagulls and the takeaway belching greasy smoke at the bottom of the garden. Together we were complicit in the lie that we could go back while choosing not to. My penpal described it perfectly when she said “Sharky was your bit of continuity” – that’s what made it so particularly hard to bear.

I’m no robot – it’s true.

The batteries in my PC’s cordless mouse started leaking, so I hastily ejected them and wiped the mouse clean. As I wasn’t using the PC at the time, I left the mouse aside for a while, empty.

The kittens were paddling about, and when Delilah stepped on the PC’s keyboard, a dialogue box appeared on the screen. It said “are you sure you want to delete this file?”

Uh… no!

I had a horrible feeling that the next time Delilah took a step, the PC would say “bye bye, file.”

I grabbed her and put her aside, away from the keyboard, then leaned forward to tap ‘N’ for ‘no’. Just then the other kitten put a paw out and stepped down behind my reaching arm, opening a new window so that the letter ‘N’ didn’t mean anything any more. I couldn’t see a way to close it (my knowledge of keyboard shortcuts is fairly limited).

The only other option was to put the mouse back into operation and cross my fingers it was still working. Pushing the kittens away again, I rushed off to get two batteries. Popped them into the mouse and closed the door. Tried to use it – the cursor on the screen didn’t move.

Scrabbled in the pencil tub for something with a fine enough point and used it to press the reset button on the mouse – cursor didn’t move.

Searched around for the receiver or whatever it’s called - pressed the reset button on that. Then pressed the reset button on the mouse again – cursor didn’t move.

Checked all the cables were fully in, then did it all over again: pressed the reset button on the receiver, followed by the reset button on the mouse.

Suddenly the mouse was working. The Start window (’would you like to log off?’) disappeared all by itself, and I was able to deny the PC’s offer to delete my fractal art file.

Panic over….. for the time being.

This was my BlogFriday post for the word ‘panic’.