And you were blaming the cold box for freezing your lettuce and your yogurt…
And you were blaming the cold box for freezing your lettuce and your yogurt…
After all the leftover All Hallows candy and the Dia de Los Muertos/wedding goodies which we brought home and the human female scarfed down, the human female is feeling the need to eat a little more healthfully this week. Today she’s starting off with a sensible serving of leftover steel-cut oatmeal. That stuff reheats very nicely in the microwave–
Ehehehehe! Your splatter shield is no match for superheated Avena sativa…
(Checks notes) Apparently I’ve been so busy doing photographable mischief that I haven’t had the time to write about all the other mischief I’ve been doing.
Firstly, the roof. You will recall the Hellishly Horrible Hailstorm that Happened Here. Suspecting that the roof had been damaged, the humans had three different roofing companies out to give their opinion. The consensus opinion was that the human female looks awful in shorts. And that the roof is, indeed damaged. Not only that, the gutters and leaf guards on the gutters have taken a big hit, and my army of trained squirrels have eaten all the vent caps. True!
All it takes is a little bit of this.
The humans contacted their insurance agency, who sent someone out to have a look. Days passed, and the insurance company sent a very detailed run-down on what they were willing to pay for all the various steps of roof replacement, gutter replacement, vent caps, etc. So then the humans had to decide which roofing company to go with, and they had to get the gutter company out to offer an opinion as to whether they really need replacing. I had a chat with the roofing company they selected, and made sure that the estimate, when the humans received it, exceeded what the insurance is willing to pay. I had a second chat with the gutter company, which is of the opinion that the gutters don’t need replacing, exactly, but that maybe they need to come off before the new roof goes on. And then go back up or get replaced. Ping-ping back to the roofing company, which says they don’t need to take the gutters off to replace the roof. Return serve to the insurance company, with the humans providing the roofer’s bit and asking what happens if they spend more on the roof and less on the gutters. And that is where the ball lies, with everything on hold as the humans wait to see if the insurance company will increase what they’ll pay for the roof. The first check from them has arrived, and I made sure the bank’s lobby was closed due to lack of staff when he went to deposit it. However this all turns out, you can be sure I will hide some important piece of paperwork that the humans need to submit to prove that they actually did the repairs, so that they can get the remaining settlement money. Assuming we can ever get the repairs to take place. There’s a two-week waiting period for repairs once you even get on the schedule—and who knows how long the repairs will take, or what the roofer will find when the old shingles come off? (He’ll find that plywood has tripled in price in the last few months, that’s what he’ll find…)
I continue to train the felines to add “spice” to the humans’ life. I’ll have to work with Flannel Cat some more, though, and teach her how to harf up her supper more quietly. Unfortunately, last time she did it, she telegraphed her intent with a prodigious gagging noise and some extreme facial contortions, such that the human male was able to leap up from his seat on the sofa so that he was unscathed when the rain of soggy kibble fell from the topmost perch of the cat tree, which stands directly behind the sofa. Flannel spectacularly decorated that perch, the next two levels down, the sofa, and the floor, but she missed the human male. Pity. Both felines routinely hurl upon the bed quilt, though, which necessitates a lot of laundry. Good kitties!
The gold “balloons” on the fence around the Large Ugly Apartments (LUAs) continue to irk me. They put them up, I deflate them,
they put them back up. I deflate the whole row.
So far, I am winning.
As you can see, NO option is Loki-proof, and at at least $7.00 a pop, it all adds up.
Breakfast continues to be fruitful ground for mischief-making. The human female and I had a long conversation the other morning about whether it was useful and saves time if the eggs come pre-cracked.
I say it is. She says it isn’t. Agree to disagree.
The gravity in the bathroom is still functioning.
If I grease the towel rod, I think I can get this to happen on a daily basis…
The lone surviving hollyhock has bloomed. It has frilly, pale pink petals.
Don’t get too attached to it, human female. I’ve inoculated it with some sort of orange rust and invited some spider mites over as well. They’ll go nicely with the runaway mint and the dollarweed I’ve let loose in the lawn.
The humans continue to try new recipes. I like to suggest ingredients to them.
Somehow they did not go for that one.
I meddled with the human female’s iPad tablet so that it would not charge. At all. It was actually losing power while plugged in and eventually shut itself completely off. The human male took it to see if it could be repaired. The repairman plugged it in and it worked perfectly, making everyone look like an idiot. I love it when that happens. Meanwhile, I’ve arranged that the human female’s laptop will, once or twice a day, just decide to stop charging unless she wiggles and waggles the cord around just so to find the sweet spot.
Hmm. What else is new? The next door neighbor mowed down the elm seedling between the houses that the human female had put a big, red, DON’T MOW flag on. So much for a free, conveniently-situated shade tree.
Oh, and my new hobby is putting little pinhead sized holes in all the human female’s favorite shirts. Right in front where they can’t be invisibly mended. And I made sure the only jeans that fit her have been discontinued.
All in all, I’m keeping busy. It’s true that I don’t get to wreak sweet havoc with vendors and office coworkers these days, but it’s still a good life. I mean, I can still arrange for cryptic and confusing email offers like this one.
And it’s time to feed the cats again.
Or there would be, if I hadn’t wiped my hands all over the bread so that it broke out in furry green spots…
Today the human female is going for the leftovers of the oatmeal she made yesterday. The crockpot recipe makes two servings, and since the human male eats it only under duress, the superfluity was neatly packaged up in a little glass container and stored in the cold cabinet.
And here it is. Doesn’t it look vile? I didn’t do that; it looks this way all on its own.
By Idunn’s little apples, I think my mischief worked! That just does not smell right! Sigyn, come smell this and see what you think.
(Sniff, sniff) See what I mean? It’s off, isn’t it? Smells like… dill and garlic, am I right?
Ehehehehehee! She may never figure out how her oatmeal came to be haunted by the Ghost of Tzatziki Past, but I reckon she’ll have an inkling who.
The human female managed to make a pot of oatmeal overnight, one that actually worked. Nothing to do now but add a splash of milk and a glug of maple syrup and dig right in. Be civilized: use a spoon.
But not this one. This one is so thoroughly stuck in the dishwasher basket that it makes one of those fiendish wood and wire pub puzzles look easy.
What’s that you say? Simple physics? If it went in, it can come out?
Pffft! It’s like you don’t even know me.
It has been quite some time since I ruined the human female’s breakfast. I’ve done some of my best work there. I mean, swapping cat litter for her Grape Nuts cereal? Inspired.
I think I will remedy this oversight this morning.
I see that blueberries are in the bowl, which means I am getting another chance to wreck cold cereal. Besides the kitty-litter lookalike, the human female often eats these little pillow-shaped cereal bits that are supposed to be good for her. But not today! You see, on the last shopping trip, I saw to it that there wouldn’t be any of those in the store. I like to do that: take one thing on the shopping list and make it totally unavailable. (People think it’s the pandemic. It’s not. I just like to wreck the meal plan.) Last month it was canned green enchilada sauce–none anywhere in town. This month it’s the apple-flavored fizzy water that’s so popular in this house. The human male, wanting to please the harpy at home, purchased something similar, but of more robust proportions.
Just how much larger than the minis are they?
Oh, wait. There is more than one “big biscuit” in this package, and there are several packages in the box.
(poke poke poke). I think I can feel three in here.
Three biscuits would not fit in the bowl with the blueberries–or even without the blueberries! I wonder what the suggested serving size is?
Ehehehehe! Two biscuits. By my reckoning, if she eats two, she’ll have one left over that she’ll have to seal up and wedge back in the box. She won’t come out even until she’s eaten six!
Not to mention that cereal that is anything less than 100% hermetically sealed goes stale in about twenty seconds here…
Stop whimpering, mortal. There’s always dry toast.
Sniff, sniff… What’s this? I smell something a-baking in the kitchen! I could do with a bit of breakfast!
Volstagg’s straining waistcoat! The human male is attempting to make waffles. And on a weekday, too! After the last two disastrous attempts, you’d have think the mortals would have given up. But hope springs eternal, and all that. Human beings are just so…so…dogged.
Uh, oh. Looks like he did not get a very good fill on the first batch.
And they do not appear to be very crisp. I’m no expert, but I’m fairly certain…
…waffles should not be able to fold like that.
The next batch is taking f o r e v e r to finish cooking. The male has handed off waffle-watching duty to the female while he goes and dresses for work.
What is the hold-up, mortal?
Shouldn’t there be a little red light, right about…oh, right where I’m standing?
I think it’s time you took a peek to see how they’re progressing.
Nowhere close to browning. And they’ve been in for how long?
The light dawns:
When you can put your hand on it like that and hold it there, I think it’s safe to say that you will be having cold cereal this morning— and heaving something rectangular and heavy in the trash can.
Ehehehe! I foiled breakfast again!