Here is a small collection of the things I have not told you about while I was without internet in my home. I read loads of books during the ten days of no-internet-no-television-no-home-phone-can't-find-the-cell-phone-charger sensitory deprivation.
Does anyone have any tips for how to keep the cat stimulated?
He's a housemonster now, and I think he's more than a little bit bored. He does have plenty of window access, complete with nice things to lay on while he watches. He has lots of toys, but he doesn't seem to play alone much. He has plenty of space to hang out in; this apartment is huge. It's just so... static when compared with the suburban environment he's used to playing in.
Last night I wandered around the apartment trailing a string for twenty minutes or so. The cat found this to be great fun. I thought it was a bit boring. I'd love some suggestions.
The new apartment is wonderful and gorgeous and I've never lived anywhere nearly this new and nice and exciting. We have a loft! And a view of the freeway!
We're largely unpacked. Steady might actually be completely unpacked. (I know he is, actually.) I might be dragging my feet just a tiny little bit on those last few boxes and it may or may not constitute a threat to my boyfriend's sanity. He's trying really hard not to nag me, and I'm busy doing a good job just not noticing them.
We have completely failed to excerize every day that we have lived here. Monday morning we woke up, put on bathing suits, walked to the pool, and then chickened out. (I got really close and then decided I couldn't handle putting my sore face in the water.) Everyday since has been a complete failure.
My face is much better, thanks. It's still not good, I mean, I have a giant bruise on the right side. It stings a little to smile, but I don't look nearly as much like I got punched as I did. And I can eat!
This apartment has really giant toilets. I know I already mentioned this, but it comes up several times a day. They aren't just for fat people. I have really long legs for someone who's 5'2". (Waste is a foot taller than me and my pants used to fit him beautifully.) If I sit all the way back on the toilet, I can't bend my knees.
So, they're deep. And WIDE.
I don't think I can actually fit my hips through the seat, but it's really uncomfortably close. So, everytime I go to the bathroom, I sit down (because I'm a girl) and my backside is not resting on anything because my legs aren't long enough and if I don't really support myself with my legs, I sink way down into the toilet. It's very disconcerting, basically squatting like that to pee at home.
The full sized, maybe a little bigger than "full" sized, washer and dryer are really nice to have. Especially since Steady and I divided the labor. I got laundry and chopping. He got cooking and dishes. Giving me only one chore that involves actual cleaning and a washer that holds a whole hamper makes me hopeful that this will work out.
It's hard to believe that I was put in charge of Things Involving Knives. The other night, we had leftover pie for dessert. (I think Steady's grandfather has decided to like me inspite of my politics mostly because I respond so enthusiastically to his desserts.)
As I was cutting my slice, the words "How is it possible that you still have all your fingers?" were uttered after the second time I made him (Steady) wince. Then he sighed heavily and stopped watching. He feels similarly about my driving skills.
I should mention that we're next to the freeway, a canal, train tracks and in a pretty heavily travelled flight path. Also, it seems that everyone who lives here is under thirty. Somehow, the noise is really negligible.
I think that makes an entry. It's time for me to go to bed.