Bleeding for Love

I type as blood drips on the keyboard off my ear. There are eighteen scratches on my left forearm, far fewer on my right arm and one night I woke up to blood on the pillow and scratches on my lips. It’s all due to Sheba. Her claws are scalpels: her teeth, needles.

And whoa, do two kittens every use a lot of kitty litter. Their box needs attention every day. The absence of any reference to animal poop in the Bible says to me that Noah was full of hooey (and manure).

But I’m getting enough sleep by going to bed at 8:00 and I’m getting used to getting up and going outside in the rain, barely dressed, with Sheba at 2:30 – 3:00 am.

I’ve ordered two more cords of wood. A person who stays home all day every day and likes to be warm consumes a lot of wood — particularly when it is Fir. It burns quickly but hardwood is hard to come by. I’m not looking forward to stacking it in this weather.

If I were to open a B&B I could call it The Pussies and Bitch Inn.

It was dark and very wet Tuesday but I was happy and cozy in the cabin. The cats and I play Chase The String and Sheba and I play Pinecone Soccer.

I went into the vet’s and made an appointment for Ethel’s spaying. It happens Monday. Sheba will be spayed in February.

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Unfortunately, I am not a reader of instructions and I’m adverse to manuals. I’m inclined by nature to figure things out on my own. I’m not bragging because my methods often frustrate me. It’s a deep problem. In the past, I’ve hired people to read manuals and then instruct me orally in plain language and so that I can do what is instructed as I learn it.

But I’ve applied myself to learning about waste management here on the island. I had no choice because moving here had me begin island life with more waste material that I will ever generate again. Plus I create a new type of waste: Cinders.

This morning I discovered I can buy $3 tags at the Village market to attach to “extra” bags of garbage. That is, bags of garbage in excess of the strictly limited semi-monthly volume that is permitted. I am allowed two extra bags if they are tagged. But the contents are controlled; I read the list of permitted items this morning.

I’ve learned to avoid buying from Wayfair; the packaging is excessive. I now buy large items in person from box stores in Nanaimo and I leave the packaging in the store. This practice means, however, that I can’t return the item.

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The previous owner left me a fetid container of badly managed organic waste and a stack of rotting wood and old construction material. I’ve been avoiding dealing with it, preferring pinecone genocide, but I’m going to get on it. But this morning I am off to Nanaimo in the car for my first visit to Thrifty Foods and my first experience with bulk buying of staples.