The human female is back at work. I am with her, all decked out in my new raiment. Am I not resplendent?
The new cloak is a bit stiff, and there’s a loose thread tickling my chin, but all in all, much better than the shabby old one. And –snnnnifffff. Ahhhhh. Is there anything nicer than the smell of new leather armor? I feel positively energized and ready for a new year of making the human female’s life a living nightmare.
To that end:
–The bathrooms on this floor still have no hall doors. That was supposed to have been taken care of over the Eating Holiday break. Also, lunch has just ended and the bathrooms have been shut down for the next half hour or so. I applaud the timing!
–Remember BAMN, the new purchasing software? I am happy to say it is working just as I planned. No one likes it and everyone is frustrated. It helpfully offers up to each user ALL messages that have passed through its infernal workings, so that the human female had 4,700+ nice little notes waiting for her today. It also shows everyone’s transactions, so there were 787 of those to look through this morning when she tried to do receiving. One vendor has already flatly refused to accept any orders from this system. And the vendor punch-out the human female needs most is not up yet, though they started working on it last summer! I tell you, this bit of mischief is going to pay dividends for ages.
–I have painted the humans’ cobalt blue car with shopping cart attractant. It now features some battle scars that would make even The Warriors Three proud. The humans really should stop moaning about this. I’ve taken their wuss-mobile and given it what I believe is referred to as “street cred.”
–(munch, munch, munch…) The humans have tried and failed twice now, in two different cities, to find their favorite pretzels. I simply can’t imagine (munch, munch) what has caused the scarcity…
–Speaking of trying to buy things in other cities: On the way home from holiday travel, the humans made a special detour through the Cow-Mascotted City With The Horrible Traffic to visit the female’s corsetiere. (If ever a bosom needed restraining, it’s hers, and she’s such an odd shape that, well, best not to dwell…) She was overjoyed to find that the shop was open and had two…garments… in her peculiar size, and she happily purchased them both. I distracted her at that point with a display of flannelly pajamas so that she did not check the tags. Ninety miles and two days later, she has discovered that one of them is very much the wrong size. Let the phone calls and mail returns begin!
–As the human female was preparing supper last evening, she was cutting some (cold, that was her first mistake) butter into the hot pan with a dinner knife. Now, most mortals can accomplish this simple task quite easily, but she was not making enough supper for Sigyn and me (second mistake), and I was Most Displeased. Then it happened. Truly, I only intended the butter pat to sail across the stove top and fall beneath a burner. However, sometimes I forget how her clumsiness can amplify the effects of my magic. I was as surprised as she was when the butter put up a fight and the knife slipped, removing a neat scoop from the tip of her left index finger. There followed a whirlwind of copious blood, bandages, ointments, and instructions to her able-bodied sous-chef. In the confusion, I served Sigyn and myself generous portions of chicken in herb sauce, rice pilaf, and broccoli. (It’s so important to keep one’s head in a crisis.) Today, it’s fun to watch her try to type nine-fingeredly. She’s completely in denial–won’t look under the (leaky) bandage and is trying not to think of where the missing bit of nail and finger ended up.
Any week that includes BAMN, bras, and blood deserves a 9, wouldn’t you say?