So… when my cat yawns, he opens his mouth really wide (as you would expect) and then SMASHES his jaws together with a juddering clack. Just a bit ago, I was absent-mindedly petting him and then turned away to adjust a pillow, leaving my hand dangling in the air near the cat. Apparently, he yawned and my finger had drifted into his mouth? I don’t know how it happened, I was looking the other way. Don’t ask me difficult questions.Anyway, the first I knew of it was when I heard a diminutive “click” and felt a little warm dampness and something hard on either side of my first finger.I looked over and saw my finger swallowed up in Holler’s mouth! He was a little unhappy because of yawnus-interruptus, but I was just relieved that 1) my finger had lined up between his sharp, meat-rendy teeth and 2) that he had realized the idiot human has stuck her finger in my mouth and I’d better not smash my teeth closed.Not a mark on me, but still: I Almost Died.As a nice, non-deathy way to finish up this post, here he is pretending to be a panda:
It all started one morning when the cats woke us up at 4am with a caterwauling cry and a paw applied (clawlessly but none too gently) to that spot on my throat that is some kind of off-switch humans have built into our airway for some reason.
“Food!” They cried, “our dishes are eeempty!!! Only the non-gourmet kibble is left! We are starving and can’t possibly eat this cheap stuff. We demand that our dishes be filled to the brim with gourmet food or you’ll never have a good night’s sleep again!”
At least, I assume that’s how all the meows should be translated. I don’t know for sure, Languages weren’t my major.
“This is crazy,” I choked,
“Get the heck* off my neck and let me sleep!” I pushed one cat off the bed and turned over.
“You want gourmet food, you get a job!” Mumbled Fraser, and a lightbulb went on over my head.
After I stopped the cats from playing with the light switch, and shut them out of the bedroom, I had an idea. Maybe Fraser was right, maybe it was time for the cats to start pulling their weight.
Thus begins our grand adventure: Earn your keep, cats.
*I might not have said heck
Maybe it’s a Banshee…
Didn’t make any noise though. Possibly it was a banshee scouting out good rooves (roofs?) for later, when the apocalypse comes and it needs to let out a good long wail because at that point it won’t matter whose roof it is standing on. Everyone will need a banshee cry. It’s a banshee longing for the day it’ll be needed the most.
With those eyes, it was probably a cyborg lazer-mammal bent on world destruction. Or just roof destruction. Maybe roof construction? Possibly it was trying to repair the shingles and dropped its hard-hat. Then it turned on its lazer eyes to see where the hat had dropped.
Nah, I’m just kidding. I know it’s most likely the undead soul of a vengeful housecat, grown twenty times it’s normal size with the ferocity of it’s hatred for… gutters.
Yeah, I’ll go to sleep now.
So this morning I went merrily on my way to grab a couple things from the grocery store BUT on my way out of the driveway, I saw this:
It’s even bigger than the last one. Also, the web is almost the entire height of my garage:
The spiders are getting bigger and covering my house with cobwebs and it’s still 2 months away from Hallowe’en!
On the bright side, we’ll have the best haunted house in the neighbourhood. Too bad we have to burn the place down.
This post was going to be about citronella candles, and how they’re much more useless than advertised. I made a disturbing realization though, that has eclipsed my annoyance that foul smelling candles don’t deter bugs even half so well as they repel humans.
I was sitting on the couch, enjoying a cup of coffee and a book when I noticed a bouncing dot above my candles. “Weird,” I thought “the thing’s hanging around the citronella candles. Guess they don’t work very well.” Then I watched the bug for a bit.
It took a millisecond or so before I realized it was not a bouncing bug, but an evil daemonling or more specifically, a spider. It looked like it was bouncing because it was building a web at an improbable angle in midair over the candles (I assume to catch all the bugs zooming away from its awful stench. Joke’s on you, Spiderfiend. The candles don’t work)
“How odd” I mused. “Most of the house spiders we get aren’t web spinners. They dangle from time to time (long enough for me to get whacked in the face with a spider and ruin my peace of mind for a week) and spin themselves into corners with a meshy kind of nest thing (I assume this is for the purpose of laying eggs that will burst at inopportune times (which is any time, if I’m being honest) into hundreds of teeny deamons that will cannibalise one another, growing larger and larger until they can create portals into the netherworld and summon their master who lives beyond the deepest reaches of horror, who will then haunt my nightmares until my sanity packs up and moves to the moon where spiders cannot go), maybe I’d better have a closer look so I know what type of deamons beset me (and my hapless candles)”
Do you recognize him?
It’s a freaking Orchard Orb Weaver! Eating his web and spinning a new one every day in my freaking living room! I believe that I specifically said that I did NOT want them in my house.
I considered moving.
Then I went and woke Fraser Arachnemesis and he “took care of” the problem. I did not watch or ask too many questions but I assume that the spider is now finally in a beautiful -the scariest orchard ever- somewhere, communing with deamons from beyond the reaches of terror.
Here is a picture of a pansy.
Why are you posting a picture of a pansy? You may well ask. If you were to ask, I would congratulate you on your masterful use of alliteration and then I would tell you. I’ve been wronged.
It all started fairly innocently when I noticed this pansy facing me as I ate breakfast this morning. I watched it for a minute. It watched me back. I waited for it to look away, but it did not. I looked down and away for a minute in case the pansy thought I was being rude and staring. When I looked back, the pansy still had not turned away!
I have been informed that it is not in the nature of pansies to be rude. I have even been told that pansies are both physically and emotionally incapable of rudeness.
Well pansy, staring is rude. Since this pansy maintained an unbroken stare with me the entire time I was eating my breakfast, and since I have it on good authority that pansies are unfailingly polite, I can only assume that this particular pansy was being paid to spy on me. Probably by a spy-der.
So I figured I’d up the ante from simple staring to electronic surveillance and I took it’s picture. Now I’m posting that picture on the internet. Take that pansy! How does it feel to have your privacy invaded? Not very good, eh?
That’s why it’s rude. I hope you’ve learned your lesson, pansy.
Walking to Timmies on this auspicious morning of my first day of gradually returning to work, I happened across what I thought at first was a dirty sidewalk:
Then I looked closer:
It was ants! I noticed a few with wings, and thought they might be all part of the same swarm. On closer inspection, the winged ants were larger than the bulk of the crowd, aand they were all either dead and being carried away, or dying and being attacked and dragged down by the swarm. So it wasn’t a swarming colony. It was a victory dance!
You may notice that the pictures are all not near the thickest part of the swarm. This is because I do not want to have the opportunity to be photographed with an ant beard. Even staying at the fringes, I noticed that I had a couple passengers. One was as far up as my arm!
So anyway, wish me luck on my first day back at work!
This morning I woke up to a purring, affectionate cat demanding all the snuggles I could spare. I could not spare too many because I was on a tight schedule. Still, I couldn’t resist just a little and I settled in for a few minutes of quick pets and then reluctantly, to feline looks of shock and betrayal, got out of bed.
I looked out the window to discover a greyish white world. Fog covered everything. I was supposed to take a greyhound bus to Toronto for a doctor’s appointment. I called the cab early, as usual, not leaving any extra time for foggy delays because I usually get to the station with about 15 minutes waiting time before the bus arrives.
I dial. The phone just kept ringing.
“What could be going on?” I wondered. In case I had called the wrong number, I hang up and call again.
I try again, and just let it ring this time.
Finally I get through, request the cab, and am told; “we’ll be as quick as we can, but we’re running really behind right now”
20 minutes later, there’s a cab. Hooray! Not in time to get to the bus though (6:45) Boo! It’s ok, there’s a train (7:12) that should still get me there on time. Hooray!
I asked the cab driver if the fog was playing havoc with everything.
“Well,” he says “the busses are on strike so that’s been causing everyone problems”
The busses are on strike? Great.
Turns out that last week when they averted the strike at the last minute, they didn’t actually vote/finish voting on that deal until last night I guess?
I have zero idea how this works, but what I do know, is that last week I knew about it and had factored it in. This week? Nope.
Also, you know how I said there was a train at 7:12 that would get me there on time? Yeah. It’s now 7:20. At this point, I’m just hoping that when a train comes, it’ll end up in Toronto. Not Narnia.
Anyway, here are some pictures of foggy spiderwebs I took while I was waiting for the train to come.