R(acc)oonmate Update (ish)

Warning: Gross stuff in this one.

….

Okay, well, the raccoons still live with me, but at least the maggots and their wretched stench are gone.

Yes, you read that correctly.

(At least, so long as you actually did read it correctly, including the part with the maggots, then you read t correctly…)

The live trap that I have had to check daily, and have checked usually twice a day, which has captured no raccoon – which I never much expected, seeing as how they all moved to the bathroom downstairs once the babies were born (at least, we think babies have been born, due to all the early morning chatter in the past couple weeks or so) – instead had its container of bait go from brown wet cat food to reddish-pink maggot mush, and stunk up the attic and, consequently, the stairway that leads into my room.

Fortunately, I was on the phone with my cousin when I discovered this, and asked her what to do, as I worked on not panicking too terribly.

She asked her mother and father, whose home she is still visiting, and my aunt quickly told me to carry the cage outdoors, dump the bait container into a plastic bag, seal the bag, drop bag in the outdoor trash bin, trip the trap, and leave it on the back outside porch to be retrieved by the company who set it and left it.

I kept them on speakerphone with the phone on my hip for moral support as I aimed desperately not to gag and hurl while bringing the whole thing down two flights of bendy staircases, and then another staircase outside to the ground, and followed the instructions of my aunt.

I dare say that, if I’d not been managing my own desperate desire to panic and cry, I would have come up with the same solution, so I was quite willing to follow the instructions.

Unfortunately, I had to jimmy a makeshift air funnel to clear out the space, since there’s only one tiny widow that even goes to outdoors up here, and so that was tough to arrange.

However, I was gone doing study buddy work with a friend of mine for a few hours, so I didn’t have to be here while it did the bulk of air clearing out.

Now, sitting on my bed, longing for sleep, I am nervous to turn off all the fans, for fear of the germs and smell that might still be lingering – eeeeeeww!!!!! – but am so sick and tired (yes, I actually have come down with a rather terrible cold today – the dry and painful kind that just make everything hurt and clog the back of the nose, but don’t provide the relief of a runny nose’s nose blow from a wet cold), I want to go to sleep.

Perhaps I’ll leave it all as-is, and go to sleep anyway… if I get too cold later, I’ll swap the fan nearest me with the heater (only one outlet over here, you see, and no central air option).

Yes, I think that is my plan now.

Ow… my body and head and throat hurt.

Goodnight, folks.

Post-a-day 2019

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Pants at home

Tonight, a few friends and I got on the subject of housemates and the comfort of being pant-less at home (US pants, not British, of course).  It reminded me of my first flatmate.  When we lived together, it was a quickly-known thing that I ditched my pants almost immediately after I walked in the door after work.

Truly.  It was part of my ‘arriving home’ routine, really.  I would walk in the door (and shut it, of course), set down my stuff, take off my shoes, shove off my pants, toss them to the side, and then put my shoes on the shoe rack.  Some days, I even would collapse forward onto the carpet after the pants-removal step, and sigh with exhaustion and relief.   We live in Houston.  It gets hot here, but the insides of buildings do not.  At my job at that time, my classroom was guaranteed winter temperatures, so I was extra overdressed for the outside weather.  Sometimes, I would be more peeling off my pants than sliding them off of me, it was so hot outside.

Since it was a well-known fact that I was pant-less almost the instant I arrived home each day, slight precautions were taken.  One day, I received a message from my flatmate’s boyfriend, asking if I were home.  He said that he was told he should text me before coming over, because I might not have any pants on.  I think I let him know that I was home and all was appropriately dressed.  He then added that perhaps he should have just not asked, and just shown up and caught me off guard.  I chuckled hard at that one. I knew it was a joke, and he knew that I would understand it to be, so the comment was actually quite funny, instead of terrible, as almost any other person in the world would have caused it to be.

Thinking about all of this tonight had me notice how rarely I am pant-less nowadays.  I guess I’m just not so hot outside anymore, that I want to strip the moment I arrive home. I also have little space of my own, in which I am even able to be pant-less.  Though, I don’t recall being without pants/shorts very often in Japan…  You know, I think I have moved to a slightly different style of pants/pant fit.  The other bits are valid, too, to a certain degree, but so is this one.  I found a pair of pants that I used to wear to school, and wore them tonight.  It was warm out, but not hot.  I remember peeling off these guys regularly in the afternoons.  Yet, now, I can hardly imagine being able to peel them off, they are so loose on me.  Have they stretched with the aging of sitting around?  Have I lost weight in my legs?  Both?  This would not be the first pair of pants that has seemed oddly large on my legs lately, however, I still weigh what I have weight the past two-ish years.  And I haven’t done enough exercise since moving back (I think, anyway) to have had such an impact on my body yet… have I?  I don’t know, but, if I am losing fat in my legs, it’s for the better – my body needs it.  Now just to trade that loss of fat with some gain of muscle and tone.

Anyway… this has gone a bit of a ways from being pant-less at home.  I will leave this open for further consideration, and I will go to sleep now.  Goodnight, world.  Sweet breathing.

Post-a-day 2017

Home is best shared

I think I have reasoned well enough that I want always to have someone living with me.  There is too much that I miss out on by living alone, I don’t want to do it again.  Most of my time living alone, I make efforts to find ways not to be home alone (or at least feel like I am at home alone).  My own bedroom and bathroom is plenty of alone space for me, for my nighttime relaxation and settling down.  I want common spaces to be common spaces.  Plus, without someone around, how else do I keep the place cleaned up, huh?  I’m too comfortable with clutter, to accustomed to it, to do anything about it until it gets really bad.

Life is just easier with someone else always coming around.  And the easiest way to have someone come around is to have someone living here, you know?

Yeah, I want a flatmate forever.  🙂

 

Post-a-day 2017