Cydniey Buffers (cydniey) wrote,
Cydniey Buffers

because I always thought of Christian Slater as my evil spirit animal.

You know what? I'm not even going to go over my stats. I'm not going to look up the various sites and take the various counts and see what my various reaches were and try to do the math on my actual brain penetration. Not this week. Suffice it to say that I have reached a plateau. I can't go forward because I am not ready to, yet. And I can't go back because stairway collapse. So I guess I keep on doing what I have been doing. That means releasing a bunch of stuff on Clammr this week. I'll do the youtube stuff.

This weekend has just been waiting on Doc and letting him do as little as possible so he can heal on his two days off. He is getting better. The massive bruising is yellow and black now, almost gone. And the road rash scabbing is all done. It's just his shoulder that is killing him still. I believe it was his shoulder that took the initial impact, and vis a vis, his entire weight. So it just needs time and frequent massage, which I can provide in this one case.

Tomorrow I will clean the house. Maybe even art another painting. He goes back to work tomorrow. I'll be lonely and looking for a reason to turn on the cam.

Iggy and Izzard came out to eat right after sunset, so they weren't around at 10:30 when all the excitement went down.

I was on my couch, with the dog and Boomer and I think Major was up here, too. Simon came rushing in from my bedroom and jumped up in the window and started freaking out and meowing at me, so I opened the window wider and Boomer jumped up with Simon (I have worked long and hard to make sure that those two get along) and started meowing at me, as well. Then we heard a knock against the wall of the house. Chewy jumped up from a sound sleep and bounced off the couch. Then there was another knock at the wall. Full on fight or flight mode was now in effect, Doc was asleep. I grabbed the nearest knife and the torch flashlight and let Simon and Chewy out and they ran around to the side of the house, I followed. There was nothing there. Then Simon meowed behind me and I swung around with the torch and saw wild flapping and a settling trail of feathers hovering in the air, leading to the back of the yard.

I focused the torch on the center of the activity and discovered Teeny (who's name turns out not to be ironic) has, in her mouth, a pigeon that is easily twice the size of her. She's about the size of a 9 month old cat, that's when she stopped growing. This pigeon was HUGE, even by our standards. And we both grew up near large cities plagued with the creatures. And it was flapping its wings madly, simply madly. And its feet were digging at the ground because, of course, they could easily reach the ground. And she started to lose her grip on it, and put her tiny little paw on its head, and it stopped moving completely. She reached down, got a better grip on the nape of the bird's neck, and then removed her foot. The bird resumed madly flapping and she trotted away. I tried to get her to put it down. Simon came up on her and tried to make her see the folly of her adventure. Bagira came up on the other side, and Chewy, the rear. She held a death grip on to that bird and proudly traipsed around the back yard. I watched one circuit, lamenting that my camera's flash couldn't be activated for the video function, and then went inside.

I checked out back about 20 minutes later . . . no sign of the bird. All cats and dog lounging on the patio, waiting for cocktails to be served.

Speaking of beverages, Doc has been making me coffee, without the aid of a coffee maker. Yesterday, a pep talk from me got him in the kitchen boiling coffee like my Papa used to. He used to curse the percolator, call me by my mom's name (all my damn life), then my own, and tell me to "get the pot!" so he could make coffee the right way. And he would do his thing. I didn't pay attention, I was little, too little to see into the pot. So I played with the dog or climbed up to the cafe table or ran randomly into another room. I was little. Okay, so Doc has been making me coffee and I have been (I don't know what my problem is, I know I'm rotten, but I haven't been able to stop myself) giving my opinion. And it has been bad, "Oh, no, it's okay . . . I was just expecting Papa's coffee." Utter nonsense. But he really topped it today. He did it. I am drinking the last cup of it now. So strong, so good. Not anything so thick or dense as espresso or Turkish coffee. But stronger than what you get from your average drip coffee machine we all have. So good. Oh! He just woke up, if I play my cards right, he may make me a fresh pot. I'll offer to cook a steak for him.

Has anyone seen "Mr. Robot" on USA Network? I finally have a TV show with someone I can really identify with. Doc saw it first, then insisted that I watch it, and pointed things out to me, and I pointed things out to him. The main character says something to the effect of, "I don't expect good things to happen without consequences." YES! Fuck yes. That. Right there. So much that. He is me, I am him. It's kind of funny, because I always thought of Christian Slater as my evil spirit animal.

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