Jeebus, I can’t even imagine. I mean, I’m “a bit” of a mess, but nothing military, and I can’t claim anything close to what those poor bastards endured.
Something was gonna.
I’m sure he took at least a bit of solace in helping y’all out, with the plumbing and stuff.
Ooooh
ain’t you all fancy!
It says a lot about how long I’ve been out of the I.T. game, that I had to Google ^^ this.
I was waiting to move the ASFs until the bebehs got a few days older.
There was a suspiciously notable uptick in the “Week! WEEEK!” squeals the last coupla days, and after peering repeatedly, as of a few minutes ago, I finally have visual confirmation:
… there’s a brand-new batch of teensy pinkies, snuggled in with their older half-siblings.
I really wanna move the whole batch into a bigger enclosure.
Which I do, thankfully, have set up.
I also have dinner on the stove, and nice clean laundry in the dryer.
And a space heater running in the bathroom, cuz I really wanted a nice, long, shower, with hair washing (ugh, my head will look all fluffy tomorrow, till Kerchief Time!) so I could put a clean blanket back on my bed.
(See, Carless Co-worker I did have stuff to do!?)
Current itinerary:
- Shower. With bonus fluffy friggin’ hair. FML
- Some sort of clothing. 'Tis chilly.
- Inspect dinner. Stir as needed.
- Decide dinner can wait a friggin’ minute.
- Smoke.
- Don heavy gloves; stir up colony; move mommies, aunties, Romeo, plus furry & pink-skinned bebehs, to new digs.
- Ensure nobody’s jump/run off while ^^.
- Stir dinner again; taste test; add … something?
I did try, repeatedly, to get audio of the bebehs doing their “Week! WEEEK!” routine, I promise. As soon as I so much as move, though, the Mamas hush their little predator-enticements, pronto.
Turn on the lights? Everyone freezes, and then slinks, oh so quietly, into the nearest hidey-hole.