It seems as if I just wrote a Mischief Update, but I’ve been really busy. If I don’t jot it all down today, I might forget! Let’s see…
You may recall that in seasons past, I have tinkered creatively with the electronic swipe-card door locks in the human female’s workplace. I purposefully haven’t done much with them recently, and everyone was nicely lulled into a false sense of security. So this week I decided that two of the lab doors would start showing “Invalid Facility” whenever someone swipes. Not “Invalid Card” or “Bad Scan”–No, the whole building is not recognized at all. Staff managed to get one of the doors open via a connecting door to another room. So now that one won’t LOCK. The lock shop on campus tried to re-boot the doors over the network, but no joy (naturally.) So now the human female and her staff are just waiting for an actual live person to show up…
The human female, rightly appalled at her advancing avoirdupois, has taken to arising just shy of sparrowfart and walking a mile or two in the neighborhood. I simply cannot allow her to develop feelings of superiority over this. I’ve had a little midnight cobbling session with her shoes, so now every time she goes out, she comes back footsore and miserable. Shoes aside, I suspect she consists of inferior construction and is possessed of substandard-cartilage. She tried to make an appointment with the podiatrist but was informed that she’d have to secure a referral from her PCP, who can’t see her for about ten days. By then, she’ll probably have given up all the walking in favor of sleeping in and eating donuts anyway.
She tried to balance the checkbook the other night. She’s so hamfisted with the calculator that she mashed in $3,000 some-odd instead of $30, which put her waaay off balance. She accused the calculator of malfunction. That’s right, monkey woman, blame the tools. She found and fixed her error, but she works in ink, so the checkbook register for last month rather resembles a work by the Midgardian painter Pollock. This annoys the human male to no end, so hey! Two-fer!
I got to laugh as she noticed she’d had a wrong answer in a character state matrix table for all the chordates, one she’d supplied to all the teaching assistants LAST SEMESTER. Sometimes she doesn’t need my help to look stupid.
You may be wondering about the state of the ongoing Defunct Feline Conundrum. Ten stiff, bald kitties arrived, courtesy of the Purveyor of No Longer Squiggly Things. Fourteen more are promised from the same source. The Purveyor of Dead Things has finally come up with FIFTY that they propose to send in the annual large, multi-pallet shipment of embalmed critters. This large shipment launches what is colloquially known as the Dead Cat Ballet, a complex operation involving a semi, a smaller truck, two pallet jacks, three phonecalls, two emails, a work order, an elevator, multiple dragooned personnel, buckets of sweat, and the partial temporary demolition of a doorway. Fenrir’s fetlocks! The whole production puts the opening of the Midgardian Olympic games to shame. So many ways I could muck this up–it’s hard to choose! This year’s ballet will be a bit smaller, owing to the presence of fewer Defunct Felines and an inexplicable shortage of both lampreys and clams. You will be pleased to know that pig hearts, sheep eyeballs, and earthworms remain plentiful.
Meanwhile, the Purveyor of Squiggly things has managed to mangle the shipping for the first fall order of squigglies. This order includes live termites which, owing to their delicate nature, tend to shuffle off the mortal coil at the drop of a hat (or a frown from me.) The human female has learned the hard way to split the order so that a fresh supply arrives midweek. I got my clever hands on her order and the Purveyor of Squiggly Things scheduled the two batches to ship via Fed-up and Exhausted on sequential days. She thinks she has disabused them of this notion and corrected the dates, but there’s really no telling, IS there?
There are disturbing rumors that the University may abandon my glorious BAMN software and return the previous, much-loved ordering software. As you can see from the above, I am QUITE capable of doling out heaping helpings of agita with just the vendors and shippers (Unrepentant Package Squashers, how I love you!), so while I am a bit disappointed, I am not altogether downcast.
The local constabulary are not the cretins I imagined them to be. They have managed to track down two of the volunteers in my community service project involving auto glass. The humans were requested to mail the police the receipt for their windshield replacement. Too bad they couldn’t find it! I have hidden it most carefully and secretly, along with their insurance card. They have copies of both documents, but the mislaying of the originals is going to nag at the female for the foreseeable, so I am still in the plus column on the whole project.
The Blue-haired Goddaughter is lodging with the mortals for a fortnight or so. I can use this! She and the human female share a few interests, such as staying up far too late giggling, reading works of speculative fiction and discussing them in front of the human male, and geeking out over certain British actors (to one of whom I bear no small resemblance.) By the end of the visit, the human female will be a writhing mass of underslept bad habits with sore feet, and hence even more susceptible to mischief.
And finally, in the The-Norns-Must-Love-Me category, I found this most excellent item while out walking the other day.
Now, what to do, what to do…?
What do you think, 6.5? Not my most productive week, but I do have prospects!