So there were SO MANY EXPLOSIONS in my neighbourhood last night. Buster basically ASKED to be locked in the house (ask Jeff if you don’t believe me) and he was hiding in various places yesterday, since the bear scares started around 11 am and are STILL GOING off in the distance.
This was interspersed by ratrunners zooming at godless speeds and ludicrous RPMs up and down Kingsway. I thank my heritage that I can sleep through damned near anything once I’m asleep but I kept waking up and thinking you bastards.
Cockney Kings Fish and Chips yesterday. They fucked up the order, but not the delivery and more or less said gee that’s too bad when I complained via phone, so no cole slaw with the order.
First world problems, right?
Started transferring musical instruments around in a bid to get all the instruments I actually play or want to play in the same place so it’s more fun for Alex when he has sleepovers. I’ll bring the two instruments I’m not playing upstairs and take the keyboard downstairs.
Jeff and I have an errand to run today, I’m hoping it’s nice enough to walk over there since it’s very close by.
I haven’t been talking much about writing. I’ve been working on fanfic (the current ones about a bad restaurant review (lots of social justicey side comments regarding restaurant workers and COVID) and a do it yourself spa day for two men, (which is very funny IMO) (pretty skinny structural supports for stories but ah well), but I may actually try to do something for November Novel Writing Month, also called NanoWrimo, in which case I’ll talk about it next month when I’m finished.
Left a message for Mike. I’m hoping he’s okay, but I’m not really in shape to be socializing, so.
Time for some more tea.
Buster has never been so clear about wanting me to keep the cat door locked. He peed in the cat litter tray right in front of me; normally if the weather’s decent he likes to commune with nature while he’s draining the main. So I locked the door again. He can’t stand the noise outside, and he feels protected from it if the door is locked. He’s been hiding all over the house; in the towels in the bathroom, under the stairs, under my chair downstairs, on the top deck of the bunkbeds. Poor lamb. He’s also compulsively licking himself so he may be working on an anxiety disorder.
