1) No sign of the HVAC guys.
2) If I had a dollar for every email I REALLY NEED TO ANSWER RTFN, I could afford to gas up my car twice over. *
3) I'm not a sickly individual, which makes me much crankier on those rare occasions when I actually do feel pooky. Like right now; my head would hurt less if I slammed it in a fire door. Repeatedly.
4) Did I mention that there was still no sign of the HVAC guys?
(Oh, and...
Dear Roomie,
If you're reading this, I've figured out why Tommy wouldn't come out from underneath your bed this morning.
He was scurrying stealthily around the edges of the office. Under your desk. Under your chair. Hug the wall to the food & water dishes. Under my desk... When he went under my desk, I was afraid he might be trying to "stake a claim" to the subwoofer, so I gently nudged his bottom with my toe.
He inched reluctantly to the edge of the shadow of my desk, then made like a black spot of paint on the floor, all hunkered down and two big eyes staring at the ceiling. WTF??? Ah! The ceiling fan. Mighty tomcat does not like the spinny object on the ceiling.
I stood up to turn it off while he was in the room. Deprived of the shelter of me in my chair, he slithered over towards the litterbox, almost running head-first into it because he wouldn't take his eyes off the ceiling. He crouched behind the box until the fan wound down and, once it was safely still, climbed in, did his business, and wandered off down the hall cussing up a storm about strange spinning things on the ceiling.
He's not at all cool with ceiling fans.
Mystery solved,
Yr. Roommate)
_________
* If I haven't answered your email, it's because either I really love you or I thought your question rated a very thoughtful serious answer.
Some emails are easy for me to answer:
"What year was my Smith made?" "1967."
"Does the Blastomatic 2000 suck?" "Yes. Big rocks up off the ground."
It's the tricky ones that give me trouble.
"Wow, Tam, we haven't seen each other in years! How are you doing? I didn't know you had a blog! I love your writing! Are you doing a book? Here's $10 for your tip jar!"
I can't just answer that with a "Yes", so I think to myself "Self, what we will do is finish writing this morning's blog posts, go have a cigarette and a cup of coffee, do this week's LEM column, fold laundry, and then give this missive from a dear friend the attentive and heartfelt answer it deserves." Which means that a month from now I'm curled up in a fetal ball, guilting myself half to death over the bajillion emails I haven't answered. One morning I'm going to do nothing but write people back. It will be easy to tell which morning this is, because I won't post anything on the blog 'til I'm done...
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12 comments:
I will not consider it an insult if you never answer any email I send you.
If I want you to respond, and desperately need help, I will pay for it by placing a large tip in your tipjar, and I suggest the same to anyone who "needs" your help. Otherwise I'm content to read here, and hope for eventual casual responses to casual emails.
I was going to write you a note but I see that I have already sent this.
Perhaps next time.
Known cats all my life...and never known one to be afraid of a ceiling fan.
That's just too weird.
Wow, an email procrastination pile, how would one measure it? by the pound or by the depth in inches? When you get to it, we will miss you, but will be waiting... watching the ceiling fans.
"Known cats all my life...and never known one to be afraid of a ceiling fan.
That's just too weird."
The theory here is that he's old, and his eyesight's not so hot, and so he sees the blurry movement, and feels the downdraft, and so... something must be about to fall on him! Eek!
I had a friend who painted a picture of a Mustang in is kid's bedroom, wiht the (heavily modified) ceiling fan as the prop. Kid loved it. It would scare the beejus out of me if I woke up to a screaming fighter in the final inches of a kamikaze run. I sympathise with your cat.
One really damn good book is Animals in Translation, by Temple Grandin. One of the things she explains is that since animals are so hyper-focused on their senses compared to humans, and also because they always live in the right-fucking-now, they're infinitely more prone to freaking out over things like weird lighting, strange shadows, shiny objects, or unfamiliar moving objects. I've found that mindset rather helpful to untangling the pets when they act Weird.
Kang, who would happily have led the Charge of the Light Brigade, once freaked the fuck out growling at our truck because it was in the driveway but not where it usually is. The only other times I've heard her sound that fierce, she was facing off with snakes. Guardian breeds can be strange like that.
I guess our cats have always been too laid back to care :)
Tam said...
The theory here is that he's old, and his eyesight's not so hot, and so he sees the blurry movement, and feels the downdraft, and so... something must be about to fall on him! Eek!
10:21 PM, July 02, 2008
Yeah, got to watch for those red-tailed hawks. I've seen 'em cart small cats off, which, nearest I can tell, means they don't watch Disney movies.
One cat Oona used to be afraid of the ceiling fan when she was younger.
She has become more blasé with age.
Tam luvs me.
In the 8 years that I've known her, chatted with her, and hunted with her, I've never gotten an email response from her.
Ever.
Heh.
got to watch for those red-tailed hawks. I've seen 'em cart small cats off, which, nearest I can tell, means they don't watch Disney movies.
Our backyard got visited by a hawk once, it took a run at but passed on a sparrow, or maybe a starling. Bright Huntress was in awe, she hopped on the fence and followed the raptor until it was out of sight, we could just hear her "teach me how to do that!"
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