If you were to ask me the following question,
“Hi Deeleea, how are you?”
I would have to say,
“Quite frankly, I’m a bit pissed off”
[I just have to add, that the voice I’m hearing say this in my head has a fairly thick NZ accent. So instead of imagining that I said “I’m a beet, peesed off”, think of it more like “I’m a but, puhssed (as in uh) off… ‘”
as you were.]
And this is why.
For the 2nd day in a row I’ve come home from work and found the window I usually leave open pushed closed. This is the window through which the cat has exit and egress from the house.
Fortunately Chino has been found in the inside side of the window both days which actually leads me to suspect that he’s been deliberately returned to the fold.
Now, I have no evidence for this; MAYbe the wind is blowing the window shut… (they don’t call WINDow for nothing, right?)
BUT, as there is a bit of a feeling of antipathy towards the cat from the neighbours on my right who own the bunny, AND the neighbours on the left who have [bloody noisy] dogs AND the neighbours behind who feed the wild birds [even though they’re not s’posed to], I can’t help suspect that he IS being forced to spend his days inside.
So, I’m pissed off as much because the neighbours on the right have made no effort to restrict the rabbit from my garden, the neighbours on the left do NOTHING about the loudness of the dogs and the neighbours at the back are breaching council bylaws and getting pissy at me because the cat comes into their garden.
Am I allowed to be pissed off dear blogosphere?? Isn’t it the nature of cats to roam, and isn’t it my right to own one if I choose? Shouldn’t my pet choice be as respected as any of theirs?
I walked into the laundry on the weekend to do my weekly launder and noticed 2 rather lovely new mountain bikes.
Very nice, I hear you say.
Yes, yes they are.
I noticed also that they’re in the part of the laundry where my packing boxes used to be. The boxes that things like my DVD player came in, the sort that it’s useful to keep because when you move it’s safer that they move in their original packaging etc.
But the boxes are apparently no more. So I asked VB Man (in and admiring tone) whether the bikes were his and his brother’s (who is sharing his place these days) and his reply was in the affirmative.
I also asked, “was it possible that my boxes were still around?” and his response was in the negative.
I grimaced (and swore a lot on the inside).
Now, it isn’t so much that the boxes are gone, it’s that I wasn’t given the opportunity to rehouse them somewhere. Or offer any kind of consultation. Or wasn’t asked if they were mine or ANYTHING
So VB man says VB Bro had figured that the boxes belonged to Mary and Boaz the old guys who used to live upstairs.
And he didn’t even apologize for throwing away my stuff.
Mr Upstairs brough home another girl on Saturday evening (or the same one, I’ve never clapped eyes on either).
He brought her home at the same time (3am).
And he woke me up (again).
However, rather than listen to their nocturnal shenanigans I put my earplugs in.
Seriously, once (or more precisely 3x) was enough.