For me, the bloom is already off the rose on this (abso-fucking-lutely haunted) house.
Now that the hot water and air conditioning issues are solved we have: doors that don’t open, doors that don’t close, windows that don’t open, outlets that don’t work, and goddamned bugs showing up.
I’ve woken up every morning to dead spiders in the middle of the hall and random rooms. And the crickets! They’re just… wandering around the middle of the house. Crickets, for those unfamiliar with the species, are not known for their desire to be indoors. And since we are not open the windows and get some fresh air people there’s no rational explanation for their sudden appearance in my dining room.
And we’ll address all of that in a later post, because the guy is coming this week. First, I need to tell you about the most bizarre thing about this house.
The stupid cat loves it here.
She is the most relaxed, the most affectionate, the happiest and bravest we’ve ever seen her. Husband’s weird, flabby pet—basically a potato with fur—used to hide all day and only come out at:
- Foodie-shake-your-bootie Time
- Sleepy Human Time
- SOMEONE-MOVED-MY-HIDING-PLACE-AND-NOW-I’M-GOING-TO-DIE Time*
Now? Now she seeks me out to cuddle. She’s curled up under my desk right now, happy to bask in my nearness—it’s weird!
It took me a while to realize what must be going on.
HIM: (from down the hall) Coming! (enters) Yes?
HIM: (sees me in bed, Jabba the Loaf cuddled against me) She’s very affectionate. (nods)
ME: No, she’s not. This is weird.
HIM: She’s happy.
ME: I think I’ve figured it out.
HAMILTON: (roars through strange, echo-y new house, confused and upset by all the newness)
ME: (points) He hates it here, because he can never find me. (demonstrates) Haaaaaam!
HAMILTON: (roars off in wrong direction, following an echo of my voice off the tile)
HIM: You think he navigates by echolocation?
ME: And the dogs hate it because it’s tiny and cramped and there’s no place for them or their pillows yet.
HIM: (sad) Yeah…
ME: But she (points) fucking loves that. Because she knows where everything is. It’s tiny and it makes sense and she hasn’t got lost once yet.
HIM: … You think she hated our old house?
ME: I know she did. Because it was huge and it confused her. Things kept moving around, rooms appeared out of nowhere, whole hallways and sections would just be there one day like magic and they were absolutely full of monsters that wanted to eat her
ME: But this place? It makes sense to her. To us it’s crowded and cramped and there’s not enough room for all our stuff and we’re going to have to sell everything to get through this next year, but to her…
HIM: So the cure for her anxiety was a smaller house. Poor Hei-hei!
HAMILTON: (finding me at last, leaps onto the bed for snuggles)
Also, it seems the one good thing to come out of the move from hell was that it helped Stupid Cat figure out who her family is.
She and Hamilton cuddle and groom and play together now, because she’s realized he’s her bruvver. She even seeks him out for cat activities during the day, when I’m not available.
I like to imagine that’s what they were discussing in the carriers all the way down here. At top volume.
HAMILTON: I HATE THIS BOX!
SC: I HATE EVERYTHING! THIS IS REALLY SCARY!
HAMILTON: SHUT UP!
SC: WHO ARE YOU AGAIN? WHY ARE WE HERE?!?
HAMILTON: Did… Did you PISS your box?
SC: I’M SO CONFUSED!
SC: THIS SUCKS! I’M SCARED!
HAMILTON: SHUT UP! I’M TRAPPED IN ONE TOO, AND I HAVE TO LISTEN TO YOU!
SC: THIS IS IT, IT’S THE END OF THE WORLD!
HAMILTON: No, they’ve just—HOLY SHIT, DUDE! DID YOU EVEN SEE THAT LIGHT ON A STICK? DO YOU EVEN KNOW HOW TO DRIVE THIS THING?!?!
SC: THIS IS THE END AND WE’RE ALL THAT’S LEFT!
HAMILTON: What? I can see other ca—
SC: WE ARE FAM NAO! YOU SAVE MEEEEEE! LET ME OUT OF BOX!
HAMILTON: Holy fuck, you’re even dumber than I thought.
* This was not my only excuse for not cleaning under the bed, but it was a damned effective one.