In which we shout - pointlessly! - at Mac
Nov. 12th, 2009 06:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
desperanceIt's all my own fault, I know. I just... Well. It's not that I can't learn, only that these particular lessons seem so unreasonable...
There was an Incident last night, in which four eggs got broken. My fault: I should have left the box in the fridge, I know.
One of the four was just cracked, not smashed; I left it in a little container on the counter overnight, reckoning to use it today.
This morning, the remnants of its shell were all over the kitchen floor, where Mac had played his standard trick of knocking it off to break it open. (See above, under "four eggs got broken".) I had thought about locking it away, but didn't really think he'd sniff it out amongst everything else on the counter.
My fault again, I guess.
This evening, I steam-blanched the kale above the rice as it boiled, then set it aside to cool.
And came downstairs an hour later - to give the boys their tea, yet! - to find steaming-basket and spilled kale all over the floor.
My fault, of course: we all know he likes steamed greens. Even so. I confess, I shouted. Which does no good at all, he just stands there and blinks at me, being a cat without conscience. (I'm sorry, that's redundant: it should just read "a cat".)
But. Must I really learn to lock away all foods, on the instant? I can't do that, I cannot live like that. Apart from anything else, I don't have space to do that; and my mind stubbornly continues not to think that way.
Aargh.
There was an Incident last night, in which four eggs got broken. My fault: I should have left the box in the fridge, I know.
One of the four was just cracked, not smashed; I left it in a little container on the counter overnight, reckoning to use it today.
This morning, the remnants of its shell were all over the kitchen floor, where Mac had played his standard trick of knocking it off to break it open. (See above, under "four eggs got broken".) I had thought about locking it away, but didn't really think he'd sniff it out amongst everything else on the counter.
My fault again, I guess.
This evening, I steam-blanched the kale above the rice as it boiled, then set it aside to cool.
And came downstairs an hour later - to give the boys their tea, yet! - to find steaming-basket and spilled kale all over the floor.
My fault, of course: we all know he likes steamed greens. Even so. I confess, I shouted. Which does no good at all, he just stands there and blinks at me, being a cat without conscience. (I'm sorry, that's redundant: it should just read "a cat".)
But. Must I really learn to lock away all foods, on the instant? I can't do that, I cannot live like that. Apart from anything else, I don't have space to do that; and my mind stubbornly continues not to think that way.
Aargh.