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After a Friday of record (not the worst ever but noteworthy) at work and a pub run with work mates after that I came home to go downstairs into my flat and play Star Wars game until I was too tired to make out the buttons. Cheerfully this coincided about with bedtime and no other demands were made of remaining sanity before the noises started in the morning.
Last Saturday's first alarm was still active and i had to climb upright and stroll across the room and back to quash that. For the next six hours or so until the phone rang I was dozing comfortably, oversleeping, and mostly ignoring the cat. I got up and checked the phone a scant couple minutes later and made responses by text to meet up with them later. The banging and crashing and mumbling in non-English upstairs was still going on and I was displeased, realizing that the "house cleaning" being done starting at 0800 was still going strong. I got in the shower.
Getting out of the shower, naked and damp I was greeted by the evil cat, who I note for new readers has long been banished from my flat / floor of the building for crimes against carpet and people. I chase the cat around while pulling on some jammies and then take her upstairs and pitch her (gently) into the dining room where the carrying-on is still going (on). The anti-evil cat gate is disabled and I correct that, eyeing the evil cat who is skittering away from brooms and vacuums and other such nonsense.
My texts to the roomate about what (the f---) is (still) going on up there are going unanswered but I've sketched in plans for the meetup from that phone call and so I finish getting dressed and head upstairs quickly. The place is a wreck, furntiture and stuff everywhere (some even made it into the garage I discovered later) and they are still banging around abusing the household furnishings expertly. I am gretted cheerfully by strangers (the cleaners, whom I've never met) and make my way upstairs to find out if my roommate is dead. This is neither humorous nor terribly unusual since she just had major surgery on Monday and is laid up at home resting. Though coming home last night I recall she had somehow made it upstairs ... and the door is shut so I knock before trying to open it.
It doesn't budge and I quickly realize someone is holding the door against me. At that point I channeled my father and bellowed. Thankfully he released the door and so no harm came to the door or his head. He was afraid I was the housecleaners ...
So, no coffee, no breakfast, overslept, house is a disaster area ... and I've done a fair impression of my dad yelling at me when I was 13. Exit stage right I went into the garage to answer a couple texts from roomie and appointment and find a box. I threw some poorly placed camping gear out of my way (no one could possibly hear that over the racket in the house) and found the box. And then I walked to the bagel shop where today a "bacon egg and avocado" sandwich is a BLT add bacon. Pretty tasty though.
( And now, the dialogue (well, my half anyway until I get clearance )
Last Saturday's first alarm was still active and i had to climb upright and stroll across the room and back to quash that. For the next six hours or so until the phone rang I was dozing comfortably, oversleeping, and mostly ignoring the cat. I got up and checked the phone a scant couple minutes later and made responses by text to meet up with them later. The banging and crashing and mumbling in non-English upstairs was still going on and I was displeased, realizing that the "house cleaning" being done starting at 0800 was still going strong. I got in the shower.
Getting out of the shower, naked and damp I was greeted by the evil cat, who I note for new readers has long been banished from my flat / floor of the building for crimes against carpet and people. I chase the cat around while pulling on some jammies and then take her upstairs and pitch her (gently) into the dining room where the carrying-on is still going (on). The anti-evil cat gate is disabled and I correct that, eyeing the evil cat who is skittering away from brooms and vacuums and other such nonsense.
My texts to the roomate about what (the f---) is (still) going on up there are going unanswered but I've sketched in plans for the meetup from that phone call and so I finish getting dressed and head upstairs quickly. The place is a wreck, furntiture and stuff everywhere (some even made it into the garage I discovered later) and they are still banging around abusing the household furnishings expertly. I am gretted cheerfully by strangers (the cleaners, whom I've never met) and make my way upstairs to find out if my roommate is dead. This is neither humorous nor terribly unusual since she just had major surgery on Monday and is laid up at home resting. Though coming home last night I recall she had somehow made it upstairs ... and the door is shut so I knock before trying to open it.
It doesn't budge and I quickly realize someone is holding the door against me. At that point I channeled my father and bellowed. Thankfully he released the door and so no harm came to the door or his head. He was afraid I was the housecleaners ...
So, no coffee, no breakfast, overslept, house is a disaster area ... and I've done a fair impression of my dad yelling at me when I was 13. Exit stage right I went into the garage to answer a couple texts from roomie and appointment and find a box. I threw some poorly placed camping gear out of my way (no one could possibly hear that over the racket in the house) and found the box. And then I walked to the bagel shop where today a "bacon egg and avocado" sandwich is a BLT add bacon. Pretty tasty though.
( And now, the dialogue (well, my half anyway until I get clearance )
