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Tuesday, 3 February 2004

Tales of the Urban Burbs #2


Utterly wasted from hefting boxes, stinking like a navvy and unable to wash, all my carefully constructed stress-disguising routines disrupted, I didn't take the sleeping tablet.
Why? I was physically worn out, and had the complete joy of not having to leave my duvet nest on the floor until ninety minutes later than usual. For ten years my alarm had detonated at six o'clock. I'd planned the first morning in detail - a different luxury breakfast cereal each day for the first two weeks, two pots of coffee, leave the house five minutes beyond the latest time, just so HippyBoss doesn't become too comfortable with this irregular punctuality.
I reckoned without the wide-eyed sweaty pitch blankness that keeps you awake and counting all night long.
I reckoned without the unfamiliar dark windows, the different route to the doorway, the foreign distance to the bog, the different precautions you need to take when alone in a ground floor flat. Accustomed to whistling winds in a relaxing cold bedroom, now the only safe window is one cracked open *this* far, locked that way, an iron trellis padlocked across it. I need to burn it into my habitual memory to close curtains every day, not just once or twice a year, now.
And the murky shape at the window at the window at three in the morning is NervousCat, trying to balance on the ledge.
But most of all, I reckoned without disturbed, uprooted, stressed animals. SilentCat makes her disapproval known vocally. Very vocally. At three minute intervals. All night long.

I surrendered to the knowledge I wasn't going to sleep a good forty minutes before the morning alarm, to get stuck into the coffee and to try a new, sensitive technique with Malice, my wilful and capricious water tank. Suddenly, she purred responsively to my caress; reeking an animal stench, I began to entertain wistful, wild, ambitious hopes of bathing in her febrile, generous warmth. Malice responded with heightened sensitivity to my demands - began to rumble passionately, running her fevered, steamy gushes of love and piqued desire.
Confident in my mastery of her devotions, I brewed another pot. Ambled insouciantly back to Malice's moist embrace. Allowed myself a shiver while leaning to break the surface of the spite she'd seeped from her tenderest parts for me.

Granite coldness.
Like a grave.

What could I do?
I bathed in it. I'm sure it will be healthy for me. Malice only wants what's right for me, what I deserve. It's not her fault I annoy her, make her do these things. Provoke her.
Next week I'll buy her a new jacket, a fleece. Make it clear how I feel. Not think back to the flexible limbs of my combi boiler, or his pliable responsiveness.
Remain stoic. And cold. Very very very cold.

This page graced by sarsparilla at 8:47 PM GMT
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Wednesday, 4 February 2004 - 12:47 AM GMT

Name: Nursie
Home Page: http://muddyblog.typepad.com

Oh how I know the feeling. Well...sort of. Been sleeping on the couch in the living room for two weeks now, as my bedroom is as cold as the grave. Not only does one stumble around, searching for the bathroom at night, but one is woken at around 6 am EVERY morning to the sun shining through the curtains directly onto one's face. One is pissed.

Wednesday, 4 February 2004 - 2:18 AM GMT

Name: winnie
Home Page: http://fastmixer.blogspot.com/

Brrrrrr. My poor child. I sympathise. I hate the cold, anykind, anytime, anywhere. Can you believe it I freeze even in Florida.

Wednesday, 4 February 2004 - 9:06 AM GMT

Name: Ripple

I saw how many jumpers you have..... Stick them together and you will have a super fleece.

Wednesday, 4 February 2004 - 10:01 AM GMT

Name: Vanessa

Didn't I call you Snowflake, not Ripple?!
Yeah, I have tons and tons of clothes, all on the floor in bin bags, next to the empty wardrobe. So that was a good use of time ironing them last week, then, wunnit?

Wednesday, 4 February 2004 - 3:17 PM GMT

Name: Laura
Home Page: http://www.bridgetwho.blogspot.com

When my brother's cats moved in with me a while back they were pretty miserable for a little while. I tried everything from new toys to little treats but sadly they were still very disoriented.

And then i discovered Catnip. If in doubt, drug em up. I sprinkled it liberally round the house, and they loved it. I kept it up until I felt they'd been in long enough to be allowed out and then used it less and less and by that time, they loved the new place. It's also incredibly funny to see them react to it.

bit of feline advice for you there.

Wednesday, 4 February 2004 - 3:28 PM GMT

Name: The Rev
Home Page: http://friendlystranger.servebeer.com/blog

Something about making a water ehater a living thing to be tempted with sexual innuendo both bothers and intrigues me.
But, then, I'm the guy who has been having a torrid love affair with my coffee pot. It's been 8 years now that we've been together. Purchased with an illegal Wal-Mart employee discount card back in 1997, our affair started on shaky grounds, but we diligently worked through it. She and I have been all over the southeastern United States, and her undying and unconditional love and support has been the only stable guiding force in my life.
So, cheers to you, Vanessa! Come out of the appliance-loving closet and tell it on the mountain!

Wednesday, 4 February 2004 - 8:11 PM GMT

Name: Vanessa

Hah. Tybalt took my perfect coffee pot, and every pot since then has had some fault - just one ... but enough to make me wish I had another.

Wednesday, 4 February 2004 - 8:12 PM GMT

Name: Vanessa

Brilliant. I've already scoped out the pet shop - will ram raid the place tomorrow. Cheers, Laura.

Thursday, 5 February 2004 - 9:27 AM GMT

Name: laura
Home Page: http://www.bridgetwho.blogspot.com

It's a pleasure. Hope they learn to love you again.

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