September 8th, 2011

Rainbow || Rainbow northern lights.

(no subject)

Story time. My family has a cabin up in Maine that was built by my grandfather-and-people and is lived in by my uncle. The roof has needed 'doing' for years (I'm not entirely sure what 'doing' means; I'm an ecologist). This year, the roof caved in on my uncle's room and on my "grandmother's" room (she doesn't come up often; I've historically slept there since teenagehood when I refused to sleep in one room with my mother, father and brother). Unk-my-uncle decided that instead of just re-doing the roof (by whatever basic definition), he would make "dormers". (He mentioned the House of Seven Gables and that this would be the House of Six Gables, so I'l have to assume that a dormer is something akin to a gable...but again, ecologist, not carpenter-builder-house-fixey-person).

My brother, mother and I have been up here since late Tuesday night. Dweeb-my-brother has been helping Unk work. There has just been some sort of a kerfuffle upstairs; I hope my brother hasn't cut off a finger... (He just came down for a tool. Apparently he smashed his head when he stood up on the scaffolding. Mum made me walk around the house on those today...what a sturdy, safe and stable walk...)

Sleep isn't really happening since the whole house basically feels like one giant room sound-wise (and from some rooms one can see out through the roof so that it starts feeling like Where the Wild Things Are) and post-graduation blues/anxiety have got me pretty unable to sleep until late at night. Well, that and the Being Nocturnal point, but I think at this point I'm exhausted enough that I could sleep before midnight (gasp) if my brain would shut up.

So today I managed to fall asleep on the sofa (despite the hammering and loud-saw-machine noises), which was glorious. Until I feel this vibration in my pocket and a phone saying, "Call from [some indeterminate name]". I took it from my pocket and peered at the name--"Dweeb"--and am sleepy enough to bring it to my ear despite that I can see he is in the room with me.

"Oh," he says, into the phone and into the room--thus the whole house--"you're right here. I didn't see you there." [The sofa, for the record, is incredibly visible between the stairs and anywhere else on the ground floor, especially in broad daylight.]

I, being sleepy and cranky and not at all annoyed with my sibling dearest, managed a response of utmost eloquence and compassion: "You fuckup."

I went back to sleep. Not long later, my uncle comes downstairs much as my brother had ('bang bang bang, stairs, I will pulverise you with my feet') and heads to the kitchen. Soon after he yells out, "KIWI?"

I roll over and groan. "Yes?"

"Oh! You're in here! I didn't see you there!" ("Oh I'm here alright.")

My brother turns to me. "We can't see you on that sofa." (Oh really? How had I gathered that already?)

"I, what, camoflauge?"


I gave him the Sideways Eye. "The sofa is red. I am not wearing anything remotely red." He laughed. I gave up on sleep and got up to join the conversation. (By 'join' I mean 'eat crips and gaze off through the ceiling to the trees, for carpentry and building constitutes a whole language of which I have no comprehension'.)

Conversation around here is made up of roofs and cats. Cats, mind, I have no problem with--I am a great fan of cats, actually. I just prefer to treat them as small, furry humans (much like myself) and thus talk about and to them with regular conversational tones. I do have a problem, however, when the topic or presence of a cat immediately inspires use of the *dreaded* baby voice. (I also refuse to use the 'baby voice' around the Small Human Mammals themselves.) It grates. Oh, it grates.

Thankfully I have fic to read and writing to avoid, so despite being cranky I am still reasonably content. That may also be for the fact that I did, however interrupted, get a nap of some length.

I'm not quite sure when I stopped being a productive person... Oh well, time for more silly Facebook games that I swore I would never touch!

A return soon to scheduled (less cranky) programming.

ETA: Oi! Why do I so frequently forget that many women go through monthly cycles?
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