I, Mac

[desperance]

Y'know, it's astonishing just how grubby-looking a tabby cat can leave a clean black shirt.

*sighs*

*changes his shirt*

In other cat-related newses of cleanliness: Barry got his ears washed yesterday morning. For about two minutes, until he was awake enough to realise what was happening. Then he was all get-off-me-get-off-me-get-off-me! and we were back to business as usual. But still. Physical contact that wasn't bitey. It looked like progress to me.

Also, further to our theme: because I am engaged in a hopeless struggle against the relentless entropy that is my life, I cleared and cleaned one of the kitchen counters yesterday. This meant that when I came home with a big piece of brisket today, I could break out the little slow cooker and make pot-roast.

Of course, it also meant that there was much beefy-smelling goodness in the kitchen, and two attracted cats; and the thing about slow cookers is that you turn them on and leave them. If you leave them on recently-cleared surfaces, there's room for attracted cats to be more closely attracted in your absence. The other thing about slow cookers, they get very hot. They have warnings to say so, printed on their sides.

Cats can't read. I have a wholly intact piece of beef, and two cats who keep pawing at their poor singed noses.

*does not snigger, oh no, not at all*

Comments

[fidelioscabinet.livejournal.com]

My grandmother had a saying, "Experience is a dear school, but a fool will learn in no other."

Not that I'm suggesting cat = fool. Never. Not ever. Really.

However, I am a little distressed over the dent about the size of a cat's foot in the sweet potato pie I picked up yesterday. I know it wasn't there at the store. I suppose I should just be glad there was plastic in the window on top of the cardboard box, so that the pie is just dented and does not contain a clear footprint.

Reflections on the cosmic implications of housework

[jeremy-m.livejournal.com]

At first I was struck by the possible redundancy of "relentless entropy", since any entropy that relented would be a severe blow to the structure of the universe, but then I thought let that go because being impossible isn't in itself grounds for a phrase not being good.

But then I noticed "relentless entropy that is my life", with the last part a bit superfluous, since all life is by its nature relentless entropy. We all need to eat a peck of Boltzmann's Constant before we die.

And then there's "hopeless struggle against the relentless entropy", though all struggles against relentless entropy are inherently hopeless: ye canna change the laws of physics.

But what really got me thinking was "I am engaged in a hopeless struggle against the relentless entropy that is my life", since that's what everyone is engaged in. Now I'm stuck in a loop because there seems to be some information content specific to the story here, yet it's essentially a universal restatement of the human condition that should feel more generic.

Perhaps I am engaged in a hopeless struggle against the relentless puzzling complexity that is my life.

Re: Reflections on the cosmic implications of housework

[desperance.livejournal.com]

I knew it as I wrote it: redundancy all round. That's what housework is. I just thought it deserved a special mention because mostly I don't bother, I quit struggling, I let myself float away on the entropic tide and the house disintegrates around me.

Sometimes - occasionally! today! - I resist. And celebrate, with a superfluity of wordage.

[dedbutdrmng.livejournal.com]

I had a Venison burger that I didn't think much to. KeithMarmel was of the opposite opinion. He retrieved it from the bin and ate it with relish, then came upstairs to represent it to me in the bedroom with added digestive fluid.

[desperance.livejournal.com]

Some cats are just Great Cats, y'know? And that is definitely the action of a Great Cat.

Also, venison burgers? Yup. Not worth the time to chew 'em, by and large.

[dedbutdrmng.livejournal.com]

It was a gift from a friend.

I tend to avoid burgers in general unless I make them myself. To much likelihood of gristle and rubber meat. I wouldn't have chanced it but your description of brisket gave me meat envy.

Keith is great. He's stolen my food and vomited on the best carpet. Now he sleeps, his work done for the day.