measi's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Packing with Felines Poor [erich] discovered the underlying frustration beneath the piles of paper in my apartment last night: CD's. I'm a chronic bad-handler of CD's. It's my own fault. I just don't take care of them very well. And being the pile-maker that I am, CD's usually start migrating away from their cases, and don't find their way back until I'm about to move out of an apartment. I've had a growing stash of case-less CD's that was running for about two years. It had grown to a grouping description aptly named a "plethora" of CD's. Erich suggested taking them to a used CD store, but I can't-- partially because they're in a condition that would not allow me to sell them back to a used CD store. Partially because in some cases, I wouldn't be caught dead going back TO a CD store with them. (hey... it's not MY fault that I liked Debbie Gibson when I was in junior high... she was popular. Come on!) So into the cases-- those which I can find at least-- they go. The rest are currently stacked, waiting to see if I will find their cases as I continue to clean. To be fair, I think Erich handled the surprise in stride. And he wasn't TOO scared by the eclectic collection I have. I think the range is appropriately measured from Queensryche to P.D.Q. Bach. :) After he left last night, I did a bit more cleaning under the bed, and found the first of what I expect to be several cat stashes. Ten fuzzy toy mice in a collective group in a space between boxes under the bed.Yep. Fizzy stash. No tails on the mice, so it has to be her. Colley left the tails on HIS mice, because he liked flinging the mice around by the tail. She just chews them off--usually before she plays with them at all. There also was a pile of socks. Small, but all mismatched, and all were dirty. I'm not sure which cat pile THIS is. So I began taking them out, putting them in the pile that's on my chair to be completed. And Fizzy, the little brat, walks up to the pile, picks one up in her mouth, and just starts walking away with it. I took it from her, put it back on the pile, and received THE LOOK. The FELINE LOOK OF DEATH (tm). This look is standardized by a very straight-standing cat, with a very wide ranging, jerky movement of the tail, and ears back. Fizzy is a master of this look. She just gave me the most pissed off expression a black cat weighing five pounds can muster. Then she walked back to the pile, picked up another sock, and walked off. *sigh* I couldn't help but laugh. This cat is just showing me up all the time. I wonder if any of the socks are left at this point. I'm sure they're all moved to yet another stash. Most likely in the closet, since that's the section I haven't attacked yet at all-- probably because I know it's the one that needs the least amount of clean-out work, since I did it about four months ago. Packing with cats has been an experience, to say the least. Fizzy is addicted to plastic bags. If there's any sort of plastic bag on the floor, from a tiny drugstore card bag to a big leafpile bag, she wants to be in it. She attempts to stuff her head into a card-sized bag, not realizing it's not going to work. Plastic grocery bags? She's in them upon my groceries leaving the bag. She'll lay right in them, purring up a storm. As I've been cleaning out sections of the room and throwing stuff out, she's been crawling and exploring the big 30-gallon bags that I brought home to help me clean. Just about every bag has cat-claw holes in them-- made from the inside as she attacks the bag. I almost threw her out-- she'd crawled into a bag without me realizing it, and then I was gathering it up. If she hadn't been scratching, I'd be a very heartsick woman right now. *shudder* She's also one of those cats who really likes to create temporary lairs. Usually from under blankets, the large trash bags, paper bags, or boxes. She scrunches back, and if anything comes near her, swoosh! out comes a skinny black arm with extended claws. It looks like a feline version of the Hungry Hungry Hippo game. Goofy little cat. Meanwhile, Colley is the complete opposite. He's not into hiding, or even sitting in boxes. Colley is The Sniffer (tm). Anytime you come in from anywhere, even if it's just coming in from answering the door, he wants to sniff the soles of your shoes. So as things have been cleaned out of nooks and crannies, he's been thrilled because he has SoMany New Scents (!) to explore. And Colley's one of those wet-nose type of cats. He'll come right up to you, begin the sniffer routine, and wet-nose you. Tonight's chore will be cleaning out the other large storage tub under my bed. On one side of me, I'll have Mr. Sniffer, and on the other, Ms. Lair. Gotta love packing with cats. 1:50 p.m. - 22 August 2002 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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