a wolf angel is not a good angel

What I’ve heard from the three friends who have seen my place:

“Wow, it’s nicer than I thought it would be.”

I decided to inaugurate my fireplace! What a lovely idea. I even remembered to check the flue by burning a piece of paper: it was open.[1]

I set up the kindling and two logs and then used my weird special match (they were out of the normal matches) and lit a lovely fire, which caught and the smoke drifted serenely up the chimney.[2]

So I took my friend into the office to show her look! I had a photo of her, and when we went back into the living room, it was suddenly full of smoke. In fact, the entire apartment is now full of smoke! Because the smoke is backing up into the room. (Trying to open the flue closes it, because it is already open.)

Eventually we give up and pour water on the fire, and now I am just waiting for the smoke to dissipate.

[1] Foreshadowing.
[2] More foreshadowing.

Went to bed around 1 am. Fell asleep eventually, while listening for sounds of cats being destructive (they were not). Woke up around 5:30. Sam was meowing desperately. Took a not-nearly-hot-enough bath. Will need to check the water heater level. Sam continued crying. Went back to bed, tried to muffle the meows with my duvet.

Woke up with Sam snuggled under the duvet (he is there again), and Matilda curled up against my legs.

I am sleeping in my new place tonight. The cats are upset and running away from me, and I just hope they don’t get annoyed and pee anywhere but the litter box (which I showed them), my knee, which didn’t hurt at all all day is in pain again, and my living room is full of boxes. But I’ve made it.

Ish.

The really nice thing about Nov/Dec is the eggnog. Yes, it’s bad for you. And yes, homemade eggnog is so much better there are no words for it.[1] But eggnog is so tasty.

[1] If one of the words that comes to mind is Salmonella, please go away, and let me have my dozen-egg eggnog in peace.[2]
[2] Every year, my mother makes this eggnog once. I often skip dinner and just go for the eggnog (luckily, all the eggs and cream soak up all the rum). Last year, she asked my father to put on the nutmeg, which he did, then put the nutmeg away and took out chili powder and left it next to the bowl.

I did something to my knee. I don’t know what I did, but Friday it started hurting, not much, but enough, and especially when I put weight on it — I have never had knee pain before — and it’s been on and off hurting all weekend, until today, when suddenly, while I was not doing anything, it hurt lots more, and I couldn’t put weight on it. I on and off can, though it’s hard to do things like “walk” and “drive” (right knee) and, worst, “go up or downstairs”.

I had to take all the sheets off my bed, while the cats were there, sleeping. They were unimpressed. All the cats are somewhat mystified by all this movement of stuff in my room.

There is so much stuff still that’s waiting around. It’s sort of unreal. And sad. And worrisome, because this moving shit, it’s never going to end. I found my place before Cheeky, and I think I recall my closing was before hers, but she’s moved in already.

The tortoise and the sloth decided to race. Let’s have a SLOW race, they said.
So neither of them moved, and the algae that grows on the sloth’s fur got to the finish line first.

The End.

Luckily, I really only need to have all my stuff absolutely out by mid-December. Because tomorrow? No. But my clothes and books will be out, and all my furniture, and I can’t actually sleep there tomorrow night anyhow because the day after they are washing windows at 7 am.

Oh well, at least I got some stuff done. I didn’t spend as long as I should have, of course. When do I ever? I could say, truthfully, that I’ve been occasionally sick, but mostly I’ve been lazy.

Fred Savage, you’re Jewish, so you get a half-pass on the anti-Semitism in your little 12 days of Montreal skit (zero on the anti-woman stuff, and less than zero on pronouncing the name of the city wrong — yes, this is how I prioritise things), but could you have, I don’t know, found an actual Montreal Jew instead of a NY Jew? The accents sound nothing alike — something I was primed for by your destruction of the name of my city.

One day, when I am queen of everything, I will make everyone pronounce it correctly.