The new* washer and dryer were delivered on New Year's Eve. I think the guys who did the delivery may have started celebrating a little early. But! No more laundromat! I'm livin' the dream, my friends.
I had to break up a cat fight at two in the morning the other night. When I heard the squalling, I flipped on the garage lights; my two came flying inside, and the other cat ran out the back pet door. Can't they all just get along?
The morning after the cat fight, I looked out in the garage to see The Runt and Little Girl sitting on top of my car, staring intently up into a corner. Great, I thought, there's a frickin' neighbor's cat up in the rafters. But no! - it was a grackle, who swooped out in relief when I opened the overhead door. I can't figure out if he got in under his own steam, or if one of the cats ......well ..... brought him in. In any case, he didn't seem any the worse for wear as he made his escape.
The Runt has developed an odd fascination with the garage insulation. One of the walls, which was insulated by the prior owner, was done with unfaced insulation, which means the insulation is exposed. (Can I use "insulation" one more time in that sentence? No? I didn't think so.) The Runt pulls little pieces of that insulation off the wall, wads them up and sits on them until I throw them away. I swear, it's like he's trying to build a nest or something. I've been covering up the sections of the wall that he can reach - it doesn't seem like that fiberglass can be doing him any favors.
Thanks to the grossly-oversized furnace installed by the previous owner, the car is nice and toasty every morning. I've discovered that winter is much easier to deal with when you don't have to scrape the ice and snow off your car first thing every day. Woot! Of course, I'll probably break down in bitter tears when I get my next utility bill. *sigh*
What's happenin' in your garage?
*Okay, okay, used. Heck, they're new to me!
What? What's that you say? How's that cold doing? Heh. I think I'm on the upswing, but I made the mistake of taking some pseudofed or however-the-hell-you-spell-it right before bed last night, and I was wired up like a gerbil on meth. No rest for the weary.