Plus ça Change, Plus C’est la Même Chose, Part I: Inside

We are enjoying our stay with the human female’s mother. (Unlike her daughter, she’s a joy to be around.) The human female is wandering around, soggy with nostalgic sentiment, gazing at the home she grew up in. Sigyn, let’s tag along and “help” her play What is New and What is the Same as it Has Always Been.

The human female’s mother loves eagles. The big poster just inside the front door has been there for years.

The collection of eagle figurines still adorns a shelf in the dining room

Sigyn finds these little fellows to be quite friendly…

While the larger ones in the living room are a bit more intimidating.

Don’t you give my sweetie the stink-eye, you featherbrained fowl, or you will learn a different meaning to the word “bust.

The collection of decorative plates on the hallway wall is still there, though a teeny-tiny oil painting by the human female’s aunt has joined the ranks of round things.

Sigyn likes it because it’s “just my size.” If you like it, my love, I shall secret it away in my luggage when we depart.

The other walls in the house have lots of blue-and-white china plates. There is also a good assortment of tableware in the same color scheme—as well as a new, quaint-but-impractical pair of pointy shoes.

Sigyn, you should have had the flowery one.

The dining room table is also where one can usually find a puzzle book.

My sweetie is very good at simple substitution ciphers.

There is still a flock of photos on the table in the living room.

That one is of the human female on her wedding day. Her mother made that lacy dress, can you believe it?

The sewing machine music box is new.

Wind it up and the treadle and needle go up and down, while the wheel goes round and round. Clever.

The hoop-framed quilt blocks are still on the bedroom wall.

I think one of the human female’s grandmothers made them. The mania for cutting up perfectly good bits of fabric and sewing them back together seems to run in the family.

The printed-plush leopard rug is still on the door of the room we are staying in.

I understand that it is customary to manipulate the plush so as to give the feline “blind devil-kitty eyes”.

I am more than happy to comply.

Same old soup tureen on the hutch in the dining room, though time seems to have done for both of its handles.

The human female’s mother has been known to hide cash in here, so it is worth a closer look…

And finally, the bathroom, where the human female is seeing whether she can still find the “pictures” in the patterns on the tiles.

The raccoon is still above the sink.

Okay. Now I see him.

Supposedly there’s a horse in the shower.

You must admit, mortal, that’s a bit of a stretch.

But the fact that the human female has been seeing things that aren’t there since she was a gap-toothed brat in pigtails just goes to show that her mental instability is of long standing and has nothing to do with me, all rumors to the contrary notwithstanding…

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