Unwanted Commentary

I now have the cable and it is fervently piping in all the filth that the basic arrangement has to offer. It is both mesmerizing and terrifying at the same time, but short of clawing out my eyes I have yet to find the strength to turn away. There is, evidently, some large cathartic principle that only the constant mashing of the channel changer button can provide and I am its slave. It's not all bad, the cable will provide hockey and we like hockey.

I have arranged the apartment so that the playing of WoW and the viewing of the picture box simultaneously is now a reality. I suspect that my brain will be a useless mass of jelly in a fortnight (note: I don't really know how long a fortnight is, so this is a purely theoretical span of time), so if you do not hear from me there is every chance that a zombie vaguely resembling me is eating the brains of hobos in East Dallas. Please send help at this point. The more realistic scenario will be that they find my body being nibbled on by the cats and I find some comfort in the knowledge that the boys will have sustenance until someone discovers us.

Speaking of cats, and something an itsy bit less morbid, they both seem to be taking to the new place just fine. There is this skylight hole in the ceiling of my living room and while I think that's very nifty it is having an effect on the Blue Cat. That being he is fascinated by it and quite put out that he can't get up there to look out of it. The consequence of this has been me being a human cat ladder/perch. Just to see what would happen I lifted him up into it, at which time he resolutely grabbed hold of the small ledge, clinging for dear life, and struggled to pull his corpulent, fuzzy body up. Alas, like his owner, he can't do pull ups, so I had to wait until his strength gave out and plopped back down into my waiting hands.

Moving into a new place is always about adjusting and I've been pondering how the hardest things to adjust to are often the smallest. For instance, the shower head is different and the consequent water flow is all wrong, the dishwasher rack is completely off the mark and, um, other stuff like that. The cats have had to adjust to things they took for granted as well. The Grey Cat can no longer manipulate the cabinets as he did before, though he still has easy access to the under bed region. The Blue Cat has perhaps had the largest adjustment. It was his habit to jump in the tub after I finished my shower and greedily lick the soap dish, a ritual that I tried to dissuade but eventually gave up on. Let him have his odd little fixations. In the new setup the shower nozzle is quite generous of stream and as a result there is an inch or so of water in tub at the conclusion of showering. The Blue Cat has never been shy about getting his paws wet, but there are evidently limits to that tolerance, plus there is no soap dish, so I think the whole concept has lost luster for him.

I've been the only technician type here today. Both co-worker Jon and the 3.14159-man are not present, meaning that I've been busier than the proverbial one legged man in the butt kicking competition. Meaning that I've been typing this all day as time allowed, please forgive if it's a little disjointed.