June 3rd, 2015

2013, cyd, new

But have I done it too well?

It was Birdaggedon out there last night. Our hunters were locked up. Vader and Bagira in the garage because they thought they were more clever than me, and Felix in his cabinet. So, Billy Bob Brian Zeus apparently went house on the surrounding birds and brought several back to us.

4 counts as several, right? I threw away two finches. Then I found one of Poe's siblings and what I believe was a well-fed pigeon over near the bowl I feed them out of. I took this latter bit as a warning. I looked up on the wall, in the back corner, and Billy Bob Brian Zeus was laying there watching me deal with his kills. He's feral. This is a big step for him. Gifts and an entreaty for actual cat food. A level of trust has been reached. A low level, but a level, nonetheless.

Doc has come home from work, frantically gathered laundry, including most of what I was wearing, and left again to go wash it. He got one of those old lady carts that you drag around on wheels. He brought home 50lbs of cat food yesterday. And a five gallon bottle of water the day before. Now he's toting laundry with it. He's seriously looking at a washing machine. He's looking at retail stores, and I keep telling him to look at reputable places that refurbish machines, and he'll save half.

He needs to sell the expensive bike frame that Douchebag bought me. We could get a couple hundred for that. He keeps it thinking that I have an attachment to it. Hell, no. Douchebag gave it to me. I've already sold everything of value he gave me, get rid of the bike!

I ended my subscription over the phone to the background check site, but was told that since I paid through the month, I could still use it through the month. I guess I'll do lookups on myself and see where in cyberland my ethereal ass is hanging out. HA! No entries found in their available databases for Cydniey Buffers. My birth name also has no traceable information, no past addys, no email addys, nothing to help anyone put one together with the other. And on liar boy, I got a whole history of the last 30 years of phone numbers and residences and probable relatives. I have succeeded in making myself an enigma. But have I done it too well?
2013, cyd, new

People are so clueless.

So, I was sitting on the patio last night, smoking a cigarette. The cats were all inside, and the dog as well, so I was alone. An aside for layout: when you come up our driveway, you have the choice of veering one way toward the front door, or the other way toward the back gate. Go through the back gate, and you are on the garage side of the house. Walk along the path and you will be attacked by a rogue rosebush. Make it past the rose bush and you are at the back of the house, faced with the Homicidal Palms. Two short palm trees that have been left to grow over the walkway to make the side of the house safer, no one can get through there without making a whole lot of noise.

So, I'm sitting there, smoke rising in the still air, under the glare of the patio light. And I hear the Homicidal Palms move. I look that direction and wish really hard that I had the dog out with me. Then I hear a voice say, "Yeah, shit." More rustling of the palms. Then, "No, we're not going to be able to get through here." And I knew the voice. It was B. What was he doing here? What was he doing in my back yard? Who was he with? And WHAT WAS HE DOING IN MY BACK YARD WHILE HE KNEW I WAS HOME ALONE?

Doc wonders if I hallucinated it. I am quite sure that I did not. I know his voice, it is burned into my brain. Needless to say, I went out today and put the lock back on the gate and scolded Doc for leaving it off the other day. Whiskey Tango Foxtrot?

J told Doc that B was not mad anymore. She dropped me from FB. I thought it was all over. I'm over it. What was he doing here? Nothing good.

Tonight, I believe I am going to paint on cam. The cam is set up. The painting stuff takes no time to set up. There is nothing good on TV until 10pm. that gives me a couple of clear hours after Doc leaves to get my art on. I'll be more enthused about it after I smoke. I haven't for a few hours, I'm not enthused about much right now.

Mostly I'm just glad I've re-secured the home front. And I now have one of my knives hidden, but within easy reach on the patio where I hang out. I need him to stop. Doc is getting a new mechanic. He's getting his scooters back, and getting a mechanic who will work with him, not against him. He decided that saving up to spend $300 on the scooter that needs a $25 part replaced, just because B wants to replace the engine is stupid, especially because we could get a washing machine for that.

B's general angst against Doc is mainly because Doc wouldn't let him set up a free lance shop in our garage. First, my studio is in the garage. Second, we cannot, under our lease, operate a business out of this house. Third, I do not want him around here all day. Fourth, Doc's stuff takes up the half of the garage that my studio doesn't take up. He's mad at me for having a studio out there. Like I am getting preferential treatment over him from my husband in the house that I pay half the rent on. Gee, I wonder why. Actually I'd like to know where B gets his sense of entitlement. People always assume that just because I am a throw-away-person to them, I must be to Doc, too. And they can't understand why he choses me over them.

People are so clueless.