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| Monday, October 30, 2006 |
| Digging deep |
I am not, I suppose, naturally given to expression of deep feeling. I dislike talking about the things closest to my heart - I like to keep them near and dear and all my own. Even good things I like to hold close and secret to look at in private joy from time to time. Which is, I guess, why I don't often post about God and Faith and Stuff. I have been reading another blog, where the author made a post exploring the nature of her faith, or lack thereof. And I sometimes feel like I am a Terribly Bad Christian for not speaking more about my own faith (or, possibly, lack thereof!). In all honesty, I have very little interest in theological debate - arguing the Nature and Meaning of this verse versus that verse is something I find tiring and minimally valuable. I can't explain Why Bad Things Happen, only that - being someone to whom a number of Bad Things have happened - I have somehow come to accept that they simply do. I can't even tell you, really, why I don't feel that Bad Things Happening is an indication that we are unloved/punished/tested by God. I can't offer any "proof" for anything, I can't tell anyone what they should or should not do, I can't tell anyone what's right or wrong in them/life/the world - so there doesn't seem to be much point in me prattling about it.
All of which, I am sure, is a great relief to many people. But I feel it makes me a very poor representative of my faith. I get upset and depressed and frustrated, so I can't claim that God is the magic solution to the woes of day to day life. I listen to all kinds of music, watch all kinds of shows, wear more or less what I please - so I can't hold myself out as a paragon of purity. I very often feel that I would have no hope, no stability, no strength, no sanity if it were not for the relationship I have with God - but I couldn't explain why. And I often worry that - if I were to try to explain - the preconceptions people have or the barrier thrown up by the different meanings different people give to the same words would make anything I said useless, meaningless, or worse. And somehow, it seems to me to be a poor and faulty faith that can't be stretched out, measured, and applied as needed. I could not seperate myself from God, even if I were to try, and I still accept and embrace the church - flawed and struggling as it is. That central relationship is what gives me the ability to accept myself as I find myself.
To be honest, I have no real desire to be the Shiny Happy Christian. I've had friends like that, and even I find it tiresome. I don't want to quote Psalms at people (why should I, when I find Job more comforting). I don't want to be bound into a shape by laws of sin and death, even though it sometimes seems that must be a much easier way to be. I don't think that any of that is what Christ taught or lived. And so I don't tend to say much about what I believe, because, well, I don't know how to speak it without sounding like something I don't want to be, or feel myself to be. I try to live it, but it seems the older I get the more I see people who hurt, who have been hurt by the church or by other Christians, and I don't know how to repair that. How to even begin to repair that. How to even reconcile the fact that something I find such strength in can, at the same time, be something that causes so much damage, or offers so little for other people. How arrogant would it be for me to say, well, if you just believe - or if you just knew what I know - or if you just prayed more, or read this, or spoke to that person, you would understand. And so everything I feel - experience - think - believe - know stays unspoken.
Hm. I have wandered, I think, more than I intended. The more I consider, the less I am certain of. Now I don't even know how to wrap this post up coherently. Oh well. Y'all have been good to read this much, and you seem to have taken me as you found me thus far. I suppose one meandering post about faith and Ata's failure to be a Good Evangelical Christian won't be too much to cope with. Besides, next week there'll be more cat pictures. There's always that to look forward to. |
posted by Ata @ 10:05 pm  |
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| Friday, October 27, 2006 |
| TGIF |
I am so grateful that it is Friday. What a week.
Last week my grandmother had (another) heart attack. This is not uncommon, but for a short time it was seeming that this may be the last time. But apparently not - she was sent home from the hospital on Monday. Sunday was the last carrot meeting - an excruciating 4-hour workshop that left me totally wrung out. Wednesday I went home from work at 10:30 with a killer migraine that necessitated also taking Thursday off, but which was (fortunately) mostly rectified by a hurried trip to a physiotherapist. And, of course, beingt old I didn't get the carrot. Today I went to work again (unable to use the computer, though, as they did not migrate my user profile whilst doing the network upgrade yesterday) and was at work when I got sprung by the Director & Deputy Director taking a personal call on my mobile - alright, they didn't tell me off (or even mention it), but I'm not supposed to have my mobile on whilst on assignments. However, given that it was my father calling to tell me that my grandfather has been diagnosed with cancer in the lungs & pelvic bone - prognosis is six months - I felt I could have gotten away with it. Still feeling exhausted from two days of migraine, I was probably a little on the edge of hysteria when Mr Ata called to see if my father had gotten hold of me, so I hope the counsellor who was standing behind me while I giggled my way through explaining that yes, I'd got the call, and my Grandad has terminal cancer, did not think I was insane or hopelessly coldhearted.
All in all, I am glad it is Friday, and Mr Ata now has four weeks of holiday ahead of him before his next job starts. Very glad. Very, very glad. |
| posted by Ata @ 7:22 pm |
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| Thursday, October 26, 2006 |
| Carrot Soup |
So, I heard from the carrot people.
And I didn't get it.
I did get the obligatory assurances about how much they liked me, and how they will keep my details on file for the future. But I didn't get the carrot.
And I thought I would be terribly depressed, but I am not. Perhaps I will be distraught later, but right now I am mildly disappointed. There will, after all, be other carrots. |
| posted by Ata @ 12:37 pm |
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| Tuesday, October 24, 2006 |
| Pieces |
The carrot people asked me to come back AGAIN last weekend. I didn't want to go. After the last meeting I'd settled into a fairly relaxed, zen sort of state about it, and I didn't want to disturb myself. Nevermind that one more meeting is one more chance to totally screw it up. But back I went, and it was fine, although my ego took a small battering as I discovered who my competitors were. Because there are only so many carrots to go around, you know. Now, however, I am fidgety and anxious and moody, and I still have to wait a week or so for their final decision. Oh boy, I want this bad.
I got home from work yesterday and decided to work off some nervous energy by digging dirt out of the soon-to-be-destroyed planter box. You know, there's more dirt in a planter box than I had realised. I injured myself with the wheelbarrow. If you have an overloaded wheelbarrow, and you tip it sideways, DO NOT remain between the handles while you tip it. Just trust me on that.
Three more days at work for Mr Ata. Although I don't think Friday should count, seeing as he has to hand back his laptop at lunchtime and there is a four-hour "farewell lunch" planned (two others are leaving on the same day). After which he and his boss and probably a few others intend to go to PJ O'Briens for "happy hour". Ata shall turn up for a short time wearing her red-and-black-and-white dress (someone actually tooted their horn at Ata wearing that particular dress whilst crossing a road last week) that was cheap at Target and make sure Mr Ata's ex-workmates are jealous of him, but she won't stay. Ata doesn't like happy hour. We went last week - with BIL#2 and a uni friend - and the bar was full of rowdy drunken Adelaide Uni students. Two seperate pub crawls. One of them attempted to dance with Ata. Ata looked serenely straight ahead and kept walking until she walked past a table and he walked into it. To be honest, Mr Ata is not that much of a drinker - but his boss can get through a bottle of Scotch on his own in an evening and still turn up to work the next day. Mr Ata has recently decided that he likes to go out with his brother and feel sociable on a Friday evening. Ata likes to go home and watch Midsomer Murders, but she occasionally lets herself be talked into spending an hour or so shouting at people she doesn't know well in a dimly-lit room. She usually still gets home in time for Midsomer Murders anyway.
Dammitdammitdammit I want the carrot. I think maybe I'll go outside and smash the planter box to keep my mind off it. |
| posted by Ata @ 6:17 pm |
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| Wednesday, October 18, 2006 |
| Ata's Inner Child |
This post will be entirely petty, whingey and generally immature. Turn away now if you have no stomach for such behaviour.
I have been working at a Counselling Office for the last week, and have another week-and-a-half to go. It is an office I worked at for nearly six months last year. Last year, I did administration for the Outreach program (referring country clients to external counsellors). This year, I am filling in for the Office Manager while he is on holiday, and assisting the Group Administration Assistant with the Outreach paperwork as the Outreach girl is also on leave. The Group Admin person I worked with last year - with whom I got along very well and still keep in occasional contact with - no longer works there. With me so far? The current Group Admin person has been there since August, and has not had to do Outreach Admin for two-and-a-half months. You must forgive the long explanation, as I feel it contributes to my present annoyance. The Group Admin person shall, from here forward, be referred to as GAP.
Generally speaking, I like people. Mostly. Most of the time. I'm not bothered by the majority of human behaviour. I'm polite and cheerful and get along with nearly everyone. GAP is one of the few I Just Don't Like.
Instantly upon meeting her, I was struck by a sense of complete apathy toward her, followed by a sense of vague annoyance that seemed to have no real cause. Oh well, I thought, I will not have to have much to do with her, as I am in the Front Office and she is not. I can be a good workmate.
This is where I was wrong. You see, it has been almost a year since I had to do Outreach support. Hence, GAP has been asked to re-train me on the Procedures. The Procedures are simple, and there are detailed notes. But she was quite determined to sit down and go through the Procedures with me. So, sounding only slightly clipped, I agreed. We went through them. There are some very minor changes to last year. As in, don't post this particular form to the counsellor. That was on Friday. I was not in Monday.
Yesterday, GAP said to me just before lunch, "Oh, I just need to go through the ones you did last week. There were a few problems." I would much prefer a note saying "fix this and this" than a session of 'going through' paperwork.
"Really?" said I, attempting to sound friendly and not at all aggressive. "What did I do?"
"Oh, just minor things really. Just a few. We'll go through it after lunch."
"Oh, okay," say I, still hoping to get it over with, "what was the problem?"
"Oh, nothing really" (this was when I felt like hitting her with something) "just some dates."
"Which dates?" persisted I.
"Oh, you have to check the opening and closing dates."
The light dawned in my mind. I hadn't checked the dates.
"But it's okay," she continued, "we'll go through them after lunch."
In an effort to avoid steam actually coming out my ears, I went to lunch. On returning, we 'went through' the problems. There was exactly one. The dates I hadn't checked. Then there was her telling me I had opened a family case incorrectly (put the whole family on it instead of just part), although I had checked with the coordinator whether she wanted the whole family or just part of the family on the referral. Today, incidentally, I was informed that they do want the whole family referred after all. Grrr. Anyway, I promised to have the step-by-step guidelines in front of me whilst doing the paperwork (like that's going to make a fricking difference to whether I make mistakes - I make mistakes because I forget that I haven't done something! A list is only helpful if you remember where you're up to!), and moved on.
This morning - freshly determined to like the woman despite myself - I was, unfortunately, late to work. That was not a problem. The problem came when GAP checked over some Outreach paperwork I had just done and informed me that there were "just a few problems. Just minor ones."
What was it this time? I didn't change the font for the referral letters from Times New Roman to Arial (according to GAP, Arial is the default font for letters). I printed the suburb name on the address in small caps instead of all caps. I put the state and postcode under the suburb instead of on the same line. Then she cheerfully asserted that she would supervise me making the necessary photocopies of the letters. This, I think, was when I began humming - a kind of displacement activity while I struggled to regain control of myself. I copied the letters and began putting them in envelopes. She asked to check the photocopied paperwork before I enveloped it - and, as luck would have it, I had made a stress-induced mistake and was about to post the copy we are supposed to keep on file as well as the one that was supposed to go.
I am sure it is not her fault that I find her so irritating. Even the little pissy stuff like correcting me on fonts (!!!!!) wouldn't bother me so much if it came from someone else. NOTHING would bother me if it were someone else. Possibly not even the fact that she smokes a cigarette first thing in the morning, and then sits at my desk until I get in (she comes in earlier than I do), leaving the rank scent of fresh cigarette in the air. I hate the fact that I feel so psychoticly (is that a word?) irritated with EVERYTHING she does and says! She is helpful, and often does the setting up I'm supposed to do before I get in. She doesn't get stroppy over who goes to lunch when (she covers the front desk when I'm not there, so we go to lunch alternately). She is cheerful and doesn't whinge about other staff members, and never says anything bitchy or nasty. She even tries to soften the blow when telling me to use a different font, for goodness sake, by blaming it on the computer.
And what makes me most annoyed, I think, is that my little breakdown comes down to my need to feel clever. GAP doesn't follow everything quickly, and I've had to sometimes explain things a couple of times before she gets it. That, combined with the fact that I've done her job as well as the Outreach work for longer than she has, makes me feel like I shouldn't need to be supervised. So then when she decides to correct me on little stuff, I feel like forcing her to see that I know better (state and postcode SHOULD go under suburb, dammit! Since when is Arial the default font, and what's wrong with Times anyway? It doesn't matter whether the font in the letter matches the font on the envelope, woman!!) rather than just letting it roll off. It's that sort of 'I don't need to be told what to do!' attitude, and knowing that I'm capable of more complex work than data entry and processing paperwork doesn't help me shake it off. I like being good at what I do. I don't like some woman telling me I don't know what I'm doing.
Sigh. So I should see it as an opportunity for personal growth, really, shouldn't I. Learning to set my desire for status aside in favour of harmonious working relationships. I've got a week and a half to learn to like this - this - ARGH! - woman. |
| posted by Ata @ 6:03 pm |
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| Monday, October 16, 2006 |
| Fun And Games |
One cannot let one's guard down for a moment when one works in IT.
A workmate of Mr Ata's stepped away from his computer for a moment. Mr Ata seized the opportunity, and sent an email from the workmate's desktop to the whole group. The email read "Don't go Mr Ata. I'll miss you. I love you, man" Well, obviously Mr Ata referred to himself by his off-board name, rather than Mr Ata. But you get the point.
Mr Ata considered that the true masterstroke in this nefarious plot was that it was almost the end of the day - and the workmate, on returning to his computer, simply packed up and went home. And it was Friday. Thus, everyone else had plenty of time to receive and read the email before it was discovered by the "sender".
He has avowed revenge. Mr Ata is especially careful about not leaving his desktop unlocked. |
| posted by Ata @ 9:46 pm |
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| Sunday, October 15, 2006 |
| All the latest |
| Ata met with the carrot people this morning. I have no idea how it went. There is nothing to gauge by. So. All I know is that they are seeing 40 people in the next two days, and I will know one way or the other in the next 2 - 3 weeks. Hopefully Ata was suave and gracious and not at all embarrassingly deranged. |
| posted by Ata @ 4:00 pm |
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| Saturday, October 14, 2006 |
| Car goes Vroom |
Ata's father says that the petrol fumes are probably due to the "breather cap" becoming displaced or a tube or seal perishing. He thinks it unlikely that the car will explode, but the windows should be left open. And Ata shall have to refrain from smoking in the car until it is fixed.
Carrot meeting tomorrow! Hooray! Hooray! Ata is uncertain whether to feel nervous or excited. On thinking carefully about it, she can come up with many many reasons she shan't get the carrot - but it is very hard to make herself believe them. It feels more like this is a necessary step in obtaining what is already mine. One suspects that this may be an indication of the type of pride that leads to a downfall of catastrophic proportions.
Ata wore a favourite top today. It has sequins and long flowy bits, and is most unflattering to Ata's figure but she likes it anyway. Wearing it reminds her of purchasing it. The saleswoman was most enthusiastic, and gave Ata the following advice: "You could wear it with a really little skirt, and high heels, and it'd look HOT!" Yes, thinks Ata sourly, if Paris Hilton is the look you're after. Ata always wears it with jeans.
Anyway, you did not come here to hear about carrots and fashion. Here are some cat pictures to keep everyone happy.
Sit up, Bosco! Sit up! 
Beasties want to come back inside.... but the door is shut!  Bosco helping to make the spare-room bed this morning.
 Mr Ata helping Bosco to make the bed... sometimes I think making the bed is merely an excuse to play.
And last but not least - Ata and Roswell, sleeping in.
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| posted by Ata @ 6:40 pm |
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| Wednesday, October 11, 2006 |
| Home, Theatre, Home! |
Mr Ata has settled on employment with his current client. After some deliberation and discussion with a workmate, a suitable fee was decided upon, and the client agreed to it. It is less than we wanted, but more than we would take, and didn't have to be argued hard for (and there is no on-call! Hooray!). Ata believes it is best if one's employer does not feel that they are getting screwed - besides which, Ata and Mr Ata are not hard-core negotiators. We probably wouldn't provide the bank robbers with a helicopter, but we might come up with a minivan. And pizza.
Anyway, having secured further employment (for the next year, at least), Mr Ata has turned his attention to What He Wants To Do with the break he has arranged between jobs. A friend recently acquired a projector. Projectors have received occasional comment from Mr Ata, and he was suitably impressed with the friend's acquisition. Then the thought occurred to him - if we moved all the A/V equipment into the family room (it's a family room on the house plans, but Ata likes to call it a library. Makes her feel classy), a pull-down projector screen could be installed at one end with the projector suspended from the ceiling in the middle. The lounge could be placed at the other end and a raised platform built to put a couple of chairs behind the lounge... and voila! Home Theatre! The library is a long, narrow room with a door at one end - suitably shaped for this purpose. And Mr Ata has four weeks holiday between jobs in which to build a platform! Ata can make curtains to hang on the walls to break up sound! (Hang on, says Ata, how did I get involved in this?) His beady little IT-geek eyes are positively gleaming at the thought.
Ata is... well... undecided. Yes, having a Home Cinema with Raised Seating sounds cool, especially if comfy reclining leather couches are in the offering. Even comfy reclining fabric couches. And hey, if you're installing a Home Cinema, you might as well have comfy furniture. On the other hand... the Backyard Project is yet to be completed. The airconditioner needs replacing. Ata's car smells alarmingly of petrol. Every wall in the house is opening up with cracks, Ata tries not to think about the state of the bathroom (which is not being replaced on the justification that the house is Not Worth a new bathroom), and incomes do not last forever, so surely the Redundancy should be put to better use than Projectors and Screens and Furniture. But, after all, it is Mr Ata's redundancy. He is the one who, last weekend, worked 15 hours of overtime over Saturday & Sunday. He is the one who gets calls at two am, four am, four thirty am. He is the one who has supported Ata while she has been unable to work full-time. His income paid for the courses and hobbies Ata undertakes even when she could possibly be working full time, without complaint from Mr Ata even when he still has to do the laundry. He is the one who took several weeks off work to play nurse to Ata after hospitalisations. And he is the one who is now electing to work the next 12 months straight, as a result of which we will not be dependant on Ata securing full-time employment, so Ata can temp and hold out for the carrot. So Ata feels it would be churlish of her to forbid him spending a percentage of the payout on the home cinema he would get such enjoyment from, and be so happy to show off to friends. |
| posted by Ata @ 8:00 pm |
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| Tuesday, October 10, 2006 |
| How the Carpet Suffers |
Roswell is lying on her side in the hallway. She arches her head back so she can look at me as she strops her claws in the carpet.
"Hey!" I say, "Hey! Hey! Hey!"
She pauses and looks at me, waiting. Her paws wave in the air just a little. I turn my attention back to the computer.
It is quiet for a few seconds. Then the unmistakeable sound begins again.
"Hey!" I exclaim, "we do not scratch the carpet! There is no carpet-scratching here!"
Satisfied that she has my attention, Roswell writhes to a sitting position and gazes at me hopefully. She looks from me to the kitchen door, then back to me.
"What do you want?" I ask, but I know the answer already.
Now Bosco joins in, having heard me speak and being unwilling to be left out. He rushes from the kitchen, jingling, careful not to brush past Roswell. He stops in the middle of the hall and looks at me for a few seconds before collapsing on to his side as if exhausted. He is not watching me, though. He is watching Roswell now. She begins to groom herself, starting with the right shoulderblade - a move that makes her right front paw lift and flail in the air with each lick. Bored, Bosco stretches his claws into the carpet... |
| posted by Ata @ 1:07 pm |
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| Sunday, October 08, 2006 |
| Stupid Pavers |
Ata wants pavers. Pavers for the backyard. She is not fussy, except that she doesn't want them to be (a) brick-shaped or (b) black/dark grey. And she doesn't want to pay $15.80 a square meter, which is the price of the ones she would buy if she were buying new pavers. In an effort to save a few bucks on The Project, Ata has decided to get second-hand pavers.
In truth, Ata thought this would be easier than it has proved to be. It seems no-one else likes brick-shaped or black pavers either, which is why they are selling them off.
Has it been mentioned that with the money saved by purchasing second-hand pavers, we have decided to hire a Dingo to do the necessary digging? A Dingo, for those who don't know, is a kind of lightweight tight-access machine for digging and such. A Dingo can be hired for $186, and Ata's father and the hire place guy assure us that the operation of it can be easily figured out. Well, Ata's father assures her it is easy. The hire place guy was happy to assure Ata that it could be easily figured out once Ata had told him that she AND her husband would be operating the machine. Either way, Ata is looking forward to the hire of the Dingo. It sounds like a day of fun for all the family. BUT the Dingo requires 1m 50mm of access. Alternatively, a Bobcat with narrow wheels can be sourced ($267), needing 97cm of access. The problem is that the widest access point to Ata's backyard is the side gate - measuring 85cm.
The solution to this is that Ata gets a new side gate. Hooray! To fit the Dingo through, we will take down the rickety lattice, the crumbling planter box, and the daggy white picket gate. Hopefully Ata's father will visit over Christmas, and help with the building & installation of a new side gate. Then a gate behind the shed. Then a gate at the other side of the house. THEN, the backyard will be suitably cat-proofed, and the beasties may roam without being constantly watched.
All this can begin to take place as soon as pavers are sourced. Pavers must come first, because the thickness of the pavers determines how deep the hole needs to be.
Perhaps Ata should place an ad herself. "Wanted: 25 sq m pavers, any shape but bricks, any colour but black." Surely that should solve the problem. |
| posted by Ata @ 3:21 pm |
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| Saturday, October 07, 2006 |
| General Snippetry |
In news that will no doubt delight Certain Persons, Muse are to be one of the headline acts at next year's Big Day Out.
All the grass in the back yard is dead.
The next Hard Rubbish pickup is not until November 16, so Ata's front yard must be littered with pieces of tree until then.
Mr Ata came to bed after midnight last night, and has been working all day today. If he goes to work for his current client, they fricken well better be offering fantastic money.
Ata's second interview with the carrot people is next weekend. Ata reminds herself of this when she needs something to sustain herself through the general uninterestingness of office work. Ata expects to be reminding herself often in the coming week, as she is to be the front desk person for a government health agency. A SMALL agency.
To prepare for the possibility of becoming a contracter, Ata & Mr Ata have an appointment with a financial planner/accountant, at which will be discussed the pros and cons of incorporating oneself. For Tax Benefits. Ata has been reading a book on different ownership structures and their impact on one's financial situation. She expects the coming months to be a Learning Curve for she & Mr Ata both.
Ata's hair is full of little bits of grot, as she stood underneath the grapevine to lop out some deceased branches. It is gritty. |
| posted by Ata @ 7:30 pm |
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| Friday, October 06, 2006 |
| Mr Ata and the New Job. |
Mr Ata is losing his job! Hooray!
He finishes at the end of October. The 27th, to be exact. In an effort to make his last month as profitable as possible, he has volunteered to do on-call every week for until he finishes. Please note that he did not consult with Ata about this. Furthermore, Ata is working full-time from next week until the end of the month, so it may be that one of us moves into the Spare Room if he gets lots of calls. Mr Ata may be getting paid to be woken every hour throughout the night, but Ata is not.
As the redundancy means we are unlikely to go away for holidays in December as planned, Ata has harrassed Mr Ata into agreeing that he will take a couple of weeks off between finishing his current job and beginning a new one. He has two job offers at present - one doing much the same work he has been doing, but in-house for his current client, the other with some mates of his at a smaller firm. This is the quandary - the current client will probably pay more, as Mr Ata holds all the specialised knowledge they need due to his having worked with that system for almost 10 years. On the other hand, his mates are likely to offer a much more pleasant working environment and opportunities to learn new systems and skills. Mr Ata is not keen to go to work for his current client - after all, he USED to work in-house for them until they outsourced their IT support. And they are Difficult. Very Very Difficult. One of his workmates has suggested that Mr Ata agree to work for them provided they agree to a ridiculously high daily rate. The nominated figure is amounts to almost twice the maximum that a UNIX systems person in Adelaide might expect, so is patently laughable. On the other hand, given that he doesn't want to work for them, Ata feels he might as well ask for it - if they're desperate enough to pay it, we could pay down most of our mortgage before Mr Ata has an exhaustive breakdown. And if they won't pay it, he gets to work with the people he wants to work with, so he wins anyway. |
| posted by Ata @ 11:08 am |
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| Sunday, October 01, 2006 |
| Update from the Atahome |
Bosco has improved his standing in Roswell's eyes by learning to operate the sliding door that opens into the lounge room.
We keep it closed at night because by the time Bosco was no longer a risk for peeing on the soft furnishings, he had taken to getting on the pelmet. While he has now learned to jump down from the pelmet, and no longer needs to be lifted off when he tires of being Up High, he sometimes jumps straight from the pelmet to the ground. He also misjudges a little occasionally on the way up, and once or twice has hung by a single paw for a few seconds until being retrieved by a human. Add to that the number of times we've seen him slip and almost fall - getting distracted from what his feet are doing by Roswell walking past the doorway - and we fear that if allowed in the lounge overnight, we may get up in the morning to discover that he has broken a leg and spent half the night behind the TV cabinet. But he has made it difficult to limit his access by discovering the secret of the sliding door, and we now get up in the morning to find him ensconced on the lounge.
Roswell is quite pleased about this. When the weather warms up, she tends not to sleep on our bed any more. She has her own comfortable bed in the laundry, but her next favourite place to spend the night is in the box in the cat-gym. It was, after all, created for her comfort, and it is a convenient place to sleep as it has a good view of the doorway - thus, she can keep an eye on household traffic whilst still being safe from Bosco attack. If there is a blanket piled on a chair, she also enjoys sleeping there, but the box is more secure.
So far it seems that he only opens the door to go in there and sleep, as we have yet to hear him on the pelmet in the night. We have tried limiting his access to his jumping-off spot with carefully placed ornaments (okay, soft toys and My Little Ponies - we don't own a lot of ornaments. Actually, that could be a good place for the wedding-gift candleholder Mr Ata doesn't like) - his response is to simply push them off with a paw if he can't step over them. Sometimes he just pushes stuff off for fun. I would try putting tubs of water in the spot - but his launching pad is the centre speaker on top of the TV. Behind the TV there are a LOT of wires. Water + electronics = bad idea.
Oh well. One supposes we will just have to trust his catlike reflexes to prevent him breaking something - like his neck. |
| posted by Ata @ 6:12 pm |
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