News From Catland

Recently I was watching TV and this orange furry sausage came wobbling out from under the bed; then it was joined by another one–Frankie’s kittens are now ambulatory.  She had them on the floor ‘way under the bed, and now that they are getting around, I think Frankie and I will both rest easier if they sort of stay put.  So I moved two boxes of knives from under the white table to get to the box I had previously fitted out with some old t-shirts as a nest for them, moved two boxes of Narcotics Anonymous literature from under the bed to make room for the new box, and dumped (gently, gently!) the kittens into it.  All three of the felines involved seem to be okay with the new arrangement.

And in other news briefly, I decided to let all three of the guys stay in the cabin with me last night.  When I do, they usually greet me with purrs and headbutts in the morning, and respect my wishes when I wnat to get some extra shut-eye.  Well, I got  hoist on my own  petard this morning.  They decided to do battle at the foot of my bed around six o’clock this morning.  Did you ever try to sleep with two kittens play-fighting on your legs?  I sure can’t do it.  I put them on the floor and admonished them to fight down there, not on the bed.  The little buggers totally ignored me, jumped back up on the bed and I, and commenced to re-enact the Battle of Badon again.

So I finally gave up and got up, ‘way earlier than I really wanted to.  And this was gonna be a late night anyway, what with the NA meeting tonight.  Oh well. . . . Thank God for black coffee!

Auto-eroticism: Part III

Well, I’m getting the car, the 1991 Mazda MPV (now named Michael Ahura-Mazda). It seems that when it was gone from the lot, the guy selling it was having some engine and exhaust system work done, and he raised the price to $2995, but said I could have it for the original price of $2495.  The credit union wanted me to jump through too many hoops for one of their car loans, and my business consultant from Wells fargo didn’t return my call, then I got some of those nifty instant-cash checks from one of my credit card companies–I can now got $5000 farther in debt in hardly more time than it takes to tell about it.  But I digress.  I wrote a check for $2500, stuck it in my Wells Fargo savings account, and will pull out the cash in a week or so, and I am in business.

God help me, I love the car–kids might wonder how I could get so excited about a fifteen-year old mini-van (or whatever–MPV stands for multi-purpose vehicle, I think), but the thing looks almost new–when I first saw it, I assumed it was a late-nineties model with a $10,000-$19,000 price tag on it–WAY out of my league.  Turns out it is a well-cared for 1991, and everything about it seems perfect.

Mechanically, it is tip-top.  Two sets of tires–the summer tires aren’t that great, the studded winter tires look almost new.  The timing chain was replaced recently–that’s a biggie. The engine is clean, but not suspiciously so.  It sounds good and has plenty of pick-up.And, it has loads of cargo space for my business merchandise.  It is easy to get in and out of.  It is higher than Roger the Dodge, which means better visibility.  It has tinted windows (the really neat kind that looks like the windows are coated with gold), a big plus in helping keep my stored merchandise from becoming sun-faded in the car.  All in all, it just looks right.

Now that I am a disabled senior citizen–oh hell, fuck political correctness, I’m a gimpy old fart– and when my myalgic encephalomyelopathy/chronic fatigue immunodeficiency syndrome (did I get that right, Kathy?) is at its worst, driving a five-speed stick is hell for me, and hazardous to everyone sharing the road with me–especially when I get debilitating muscle spasms in the foot and leg that works the gas pedal.  But this thing has a four-speed automatic tranny (with overdrive, no less), and a sophisticated cruise control system.  And a really good sound system, so I will have something to occupy my tiny mind when the car is driving itself.

It looks like somethng a properous person would drive.  This will be a great psychological advantage when tourists come by my stand–instead of seeing this grizzled old fart selling rocks stored in egg boxes out of the back of a beater, they will see this well-groomed  (remember that beard trim, Kathy!) senior citizen/small businessman  who even takes Visa and MasterCard for his wares.  I have read, and accept as true, that most people will more readily do business with someone who looks like he doesn’t need the money–kinda like banks only lend you money when you can prove you don’t need it!  Kathy and I, and many folks around here, are just the opposite–if someone looks like he really needs the dough, he or she gets our business–like Tim, the wood guy in one of Kathy’s recent blogs.

What’s more, every day it seems I find something else new to like.  I just noticed the cruise control the other day, and more recently, I noticed how much the color– burgundy–becomes the vehicle.  I have seen other MPVs, all in other colors, but none of them looks nearly as good as Michael.

I still have a few things to deal with–insurance, and tags and title, and figuring out how to work the slushbox–but I will drive off those bridges when I come to them.

Oops!

Sorry about the blank message.  I don’t think it was my fault, but anyway. . . .

More news about the cats–Frankie, the stray siamese who had kittens under my bed has gotten super-territorial–she is beating up the three guys who were born there earlier to Silky, and beats up Silky, who hardly ever comes around any more.

So Frankie is kinda turning into a bitch, but she sure had cute kittens–one is sort of ginger, the orher more orange–with a total of three open eyes, according to Kathy, who wormed herself under the bed to ooh and aww over’em.