Tag: living

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Every night, Cisco, my cat, and I go for a little walk in the corridor of our apartment. He saw Bob and I leaving from our front door and figured out that this is the way out, possibly to freedom. At first, he just roamed the halls but after a little while he realized that there were other doors and that those doors could be opened too. So now he stops at the other apartment doors, stretches his body towards the door knob signalling to me that he wants the door opened. When I fail to open the other people’s doors, he looks up at me with disgust.

I tried to make it up to him by opening the doors that led to the trash bins and the fire escape doors which he did enjoy but he still stops at other people’s front doors expecting me to open. I hate to disappoint him. I think I am losing the respect of my cat. A terrible thing.

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I haven’t been to a concert in quite some time but apparently pooping in your seat so you don’t miss any of the show is now a thing.

Well, I don’t know what to say about this except I don’t think missing a few minutes of a concert, and I am talking about the Beatles here or the Rolling Stones or anyone for that matter, would cause me ever to decide to take a dump on my seat at a concert in front of thousands of other people just because I don’t want to miss “I Want to Hold Your Hand.” What the fucking fuck. WTFF.

And this article is blaming it on kids brought up during COVID. You mean that kids who were brought up to wash their hands a million times a day and wear a face mask to stop the spread of disease are going to find it perfectly OK to spread their diseased filled fecal matter to thousands of unsuspecting music fans? Huh?

GEEZUS.

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What kind of asshole kicks a sea lion? For fun? And his friends laughed? So, what a bunch of assholes. To top it off, also kind of stupid because what would have happened if the sea lion decided to fight back?

Don’t say this is typical teen age fun either. Hurting an animal for your own amusement is sadism and is unacceptable. Let’s see what happens to the young man at sentencing. Not much, I am afraid.

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Things I ask myself now, at 69, before getting on the floor:

1.) Is what I am going to do on the floor worth the effort to get off the floor when I am done?

2.) Is there anything near that I can use to leverage myself off of the floor when I am need to stand up?

3.) Can this wait until there are more things on the floor that I need in order to maximize my floor experience? Honestly, why pick up an errant spoon when you can wait for the knife and fork to fall later.

4.) Can this wait until a more youthful friend (say late 50’s) shows up and I can casually ask them to help me like I just noticed it now?

5.) Will anyone really notice if I don’t do what needs to be done of the floor? A good kick towards the couch will hide anything you don’t really need to immediately retrieve.

6.) Is there a pillow within grabbing distance so if I have to stay longer on the floor than necessary I can, at least, be comfortable?

7.) Do I have my cell phone in case I find myself unable to get off of the floor?

8.) Do I have enough clothes on so that nobody, particularly me, is embarrassed if I need to call someone to get me off the floor?

9.) Should I leave the door unlocked so the person who is rescuing me has easy access to my apartment?

10) Why is it that everything I need right now is on the floor?

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A few backs I reported that my spider, who very cleverly incorporated the light cord on our porch into her web, is missing. I looked at the light cord the other day and saw this:

She is back. Or one of her daughters is. Although she has irritated me a little because I now have to stand on my tippy toes to reach the cord but it is a small price to pay to work with such a creative animal.