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I dreamt a sailor's dream of me
At eight in the morning, construction with bandsaws and jackhammers commerced on not one, but two houses immediately adjacent to our own. The noise came right in through the windows, even the closed ones. ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
derspatchel and I immediately stopped sleeping. The cats may or may not have been asleep, but they certainly weren't thrilled about the situation. The entire house rattled. It went on constantly. Naturally, this afternoon we had to take them both to the vet.
This was already going to be a slightly complicated process, because they are now full-grown cats and no longer fit simultaneously into the carrier in which we brought them home when they were two months old;rushthatspeaks had agreed to loan us a carrier into which we would encourage one cat, which turned out to be Autolycus because he sniffed at it and then went inside to investigate of his own accord. Hestia, who had never before displayed any fear of doctor's visits, was so on edge from the construction noise that she fled to my room and took refuge behind the curtain of the window beyond my desk, knowing she could not be easily extricated without knocking over everything. Rob did so with infinite caution and gentleness, but then she clawed him and wedged herself underneath the futon. We had to lure her out with treats. And then we had to carry two unnerved cats out into a hot, noisy street, right past the jackhammers because it was the only spot on the street where Rush could stash the car, thank you, Somerville parking. Hestia was already emitting a series of small, distressed mews. Autolycus began to yell. I had never heard anything like it. I have heard him call from one end of the house to another when he can't find his sister or thinks he needs more attention now, but this was the sustained, heartfelt, gonging unhappiness of a cat with Siamese ancestry and it was heartbreaking. The good news is that the vet appointment itself was efficient and possibly even soothing: the rooms were cool and quiet and someone much defter at the process than myself clipped all of their claws, so that Autolycus no longer clicks when he walks and Hestia doesn't accidentally fasten herself to screens. (Usually we trim their claws ourselves, but Hestia has never liked it and this last time Autolycus hissed halfway through the first paw, so we thought maybe professionals for a change.) They were visibly calmer when returned to us. It lasted exactly as long as it took us to step outside into the heat again. And then we pulled up on the other side of the street from our house, and I ran inside to unlock all the doors so that we could move the cats as quickly through the jackhammer zone as possible, and a UPS truck pulled up and double-parked itself directly between the house and the car. So instead we carried the cats around the UPS truck, which was also hot and noisy, and released them from their carriers as soon as we had them inside, and the jackhammering and bandsawing did not in any way cease until five o'clock in the afternoon, but the cats took it a lot more calmly after that. Rush got their carrier back. They were a hero of the revolution. The UPS truck drove away as soon as we had detoured the cats around it, because I don't believe it was on the street for any other reason. Rob promptly collapsed upstairs with the air conditioner and I worked for three hours and then passed out on the couch. As I type, Hestia is sleeping in one of her nests in my office and Autolycus is playing on the floor with an industrial-strength rubber band, occasionally making noises to indicate that I should participate a little more in the cat-entertainment and a little less in the delectable clickety noise that he is not allowed to hunt. I think everyone is going to be all right. It was not the best afternoon, though.
Unexpected nice thing of the day: I had my prose style in Ghost Signs likened to Joseph Conrad, specifically An Outcast of the Islands (1898). I'll take it!
[edit] Second unexpected nice thing of the day: I got back from running a late errand to find thatladymondegreen had sent me the DVD of the Alloy Orchestra's Wild and Weird. I saw this program of shorts at the Somerville Theatre with ratatosk in 2012. I wrote about the four films that most impressed me at the time. I guess I should get around to the rest.
derspatchel and I immediately stopped sleeping. The cats may or may not have been asleep, but they certainly weren't thrilled about the situation. The entire house rattled. It went on constantly. Naturally, this afternoon we had to take them both to the vet.This was already going to be a slightly complicated process, because they are now full-grown cats and no longer fit simultaneously into the carrier in which we brought them home when they were two months old;
rushthatspeaks had agreed to loan us a carrier into which we would encourage one cat, which turned out to be Autolycus because he sniffed at it and then went inside to investigate of his own accord. Hestia, who had never before displayed any fear of doctor's visits, was so on edge from the construction noise that she fled to my room and took refuge behind the curtain of the window beyond my desk, knowing she could not be easily extricated without knocking over everything. Rob did so with infinite caution and gentleness, but then she clawed him and wedged herself underneath the futon. We had to lure her out with treats. And then we had to carry two unnerved cats out into a hot, noisy street, right past the jackhammers because it was the only spot on the street where Rush could stash the car, thank you, Somerville parking. Hestia was already emitting a series of small, distressed mews. Autolycus began to yell. I had never heard anything like it. I have heard him call from one end of the house to another when he can't find his sister or thinks he needs more attention now, but this was the sustained, heartfelt, gonging unhappiness of a cat with Siamese ancestry and it was heartbreaking. The good news is that the vet appointment itself was efficient and possibly even soothing: the rooms were cool and quiet and someone much defter at the process than myself clipped all of their claws, so that Autolycus no longer clicks when he walks and Hestia doesn't accidentally fasten herself to screens. (Usually we trim their claws ourselves, but Hestia has never liked it and this last time Autolycus hissed halfway through the first paw, so we thought maybe professionals for a change.) They were visibly calmer when returned to us. It lasted exactly as long as it took us to step outside into the heat again. And then we pulled up on the other side of the street from our house, and I ran inside to unlock all the doors so that we could move the cats as quickly through the jackhammer zone as possible, and a UPS truck pulled up and double-parked itself directly between the house and the car. So instead we carried the cats around the UPS truck, which was also hot and noisy, and released them from their carriers as soon as we had them inside, and the jackhammering and bandsawing did not in any way cease until five o'clock in the afternoon, but the cats took it a lot more calmly after that. Rush got their carrier back. They were a hero of the revolution. The UPS truck drove away as soon as we had detoured the cats around it, because I don't believe it was on the street for any other reason. Rob promptly collapsed upstairs with the air conditioner and I worked for three hours and then passed out on the couch. As I type, Hestia is sleeping in one of her nests in my office and Autolycus is playing on the floor with an industrial-strength rubber band, occasionally making noises to indicate that I should participate a little more in the cat-entertainment and a little less in the delectable clickety noise that he is not allowed to hunt. I think everyone is going to be all right. It was not the best afternoon, though.Unexpected nice thing of the day: I had my prose style in Ghost Signs likened to Joseph Conrad, specifically An Outcast of the Islands (1898). I'll take it!
[edit] Second unexpected nice thing of the day: I got back from running a late errand to find that
ladymondegreen had sent me the DVD of the Alloy Orchestra's Wild and Weird. I saw this program of shorts at the Somerville Theatre with ratatosk in 2012. I wrote about the four films that most impressed me at the time. I guess I should get around to the rest.
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Yeah, our neighbourhood is being built up and there are two construction projects - our apartment house is right in between them - that start up every day at six, so nobody sleeps past then. And they don't knock off until three or four in the afternoon. It's nervewracking.
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Oh, wow. That is actually worse than my street with three fraternities in New Haven; they were only unbearably noisy on the weekends. I hope you have made up for the sleep deficit over the years.
Here's to hoping for less noise.
Thank you!
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There were plenty of treats and plenty of petting and plenty of time left alone to decompress in familiar surroundings. They have been either sleeping or playful all night. We don't have to take them anywhere tomorrow. I just hope the noise isn't as bad. I mean, I also want to sleep.
start up every day at six, so nobody sleeps past then. And they don't knock off until three or four in the afternoon. It's nervewracking.
Ew. I am so sorry. Maybe you should just work on a nocturnal schedule for the foreseeable future?
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Aww, yay for recovering kitties. I know what you mean about that yelling-for-help noise, Max did it last time we took him to the vet (down the hallway, down the elevator, into the taxi, on the taxi ride) and I felt like a monster. He recovered fine and was cuddling up on the way back, but, Jesus.
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That being said, those neighbors once gave us fresh eggs and they were delicious, so I guess I can't complain too much.
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It has been totally unnecessary!
I find it strangely reassuring that Hestia is taking a nap in the carrier this afternoon, at least. She's not associating it with permanent horror or threat.
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I am glad that you and Spatch and the cats are back in the air conditioning and hopefully the jackhammers have gone to sleep for the night. I hope they don't wake up quite so early tomorrow, but I don't hold out hope, as they tend, as a species to be up with first light. Some of them are even quasi-nocturnal, hopefully not the ones that are in your local environs.
They're currently demolishing the house across the street from us, and our house only sways from time to time, but they're using a cherry picker, and it beeps incessantly as it backs up. This has been
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Speaking of which, our Sassafrass packages arrived today. Thank you!
You're welcome! I can only take credit for having been part of the initial round of packing and the last round of mailing. Enjoy!
I hope they don't wake up quite so early tomorrow, but I don't hold out hope, as they tend, as a species to be up with first light. Some of them are even quasi-nocturnal, hopefully not the ones that are in your local environs.
Ours appear to be diurnal, but I am worried about their rising time. The birds here start before dawn, which is not promising.
but they're using a cherry picker, and it beeps incessantly as it backs up. This has been pecunium's alarm clock for days now. He is not amused.
Oh, man. He has my greatest sympathies. That is not the worst alarm clock, but it's right up there.
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Does their nesting look long term? Do you think they stand a chance of breeding? I'm afraid of what that could mean for your sleep patterns. Young jackhammers are less careful then their parents about when they crow and they tend to be quite ravenous. They tend to meet up with small piledrivers and form roaming gangs. Ruinous to most neighborhoods, unless there's good natural grazing, like an abandoned quarry. Though they are quite adorable if you catch them in an unguarded moment as they romp about in new ruins.
Oh, man. He has my greatest sympathies. That is not the worst alarm clock, but it's right up there.
The worst alarm clock I can think of is that something large and formidable deciding that you are breakfast. Biting insects are a close second. Explosions aren't a lot of fun either, but are thankfully, largely outside my personal experience. I hope you wake gently tomorrow or sleep soundly through.
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Unsurprised, but sad, that they did not knock off until five o'clock. Well, hopefully working a nine-hour day of that means there's not much more of that to be done.
Lucien and Rafael were very confused when I brought our carrier back inside. They'd been confused when I took it out, but returning it elevated it to inexplicable-- I think they assumed that initially I was taking it out to shoot it or something, which they would have approved.
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Oh, excellent! I am glad they are safely there. No pressure to watch them soon. I am happy to add to your library.
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I frequently refer to UPS trucks as UPStrucktions for this very reason. All strength to your harpooning arm!
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Hee!
Nine
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Oh god, I know exactly the sound you mean. O_O
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(a) Everything about your natural history of jackhammers is great. Thank you.
(b) Alas, they seem to be nesting long-term. I was woken this morning by the distinct juddering call of a hunting jackhammer. They have continued to forage and communicate throughout the day, which is why I'm staring at this screen like someone halfway replaced my head.
Explosions aren't a lot of fun either, but are thankfully, largely outside my personal experience.
I woke up once from a dream of fireworks to exploding paint cans in the shed across the street, which had caught fire and was burning both loudly and thickly (there was very heavy smoke) and periodically firing off these hollow incendiary bangs. We were in no danger and the fire department came exactly as they're supposed to, but I can't really recommend it. I woke up once in New Haven thinking I was in the middle of an earthquake, but it was construction with serious earth-moving beginning in my building's backyard.
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My parents once drove from Philadelphia to Boston with one Siamese cat and her two Tonkinese children. She herself acclimated reasonably well to the trip, having weathered multiple moves before; her daughter protested and then settled in resentfully for the long haul; her son made that noise all the way to Boston, or at least until he lost his voice somewhere in New England. I really sympathize with my parents now.
[edit] Good icon.
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[edit] Good icon.
:-)
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Thank you. I would like to write about them when I get the chance; I am looking forward to rewatching Dreams of a Rarebit Fiend (1921) and The Life and Death of 9413, a Hollywood Extra (1927), and it looks like the DVD might actually differ slightly from the program I saw in 2012.
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I love you.
And its appearance was so precisely timed that I have to put it down to either surveillance or someone forgetting to pay the irony bill.
Not to mention the part where, as far as anyone could tell, it did not actually make a delivery.
Well, hopefully working a nine-hour day of that means there's not much more of that to be done.
They came back this morning! With jackhammers! I'm really displeased by the whole situation! Also tired!
(There is not jackhammering at this precise moment as I type and I believe that's only because no one's sure if it's going to rain. Oh, never mind, the sun came out again. Now I'm just waiting.)
They'd been confused when I took it out, but returning it elevated it to inexplicable-- I think they assumed that initially I was taking it out to shoot it or something, which they would have approved.
Aw. Does it smell like Other Cat to them? Or do they not go near the carriers enough when they're not in use to care?
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My thanks to the Audubon society for their comprehensive guides, which help me to identify the wild calls, the subtle species differentiation and the tell-tale signs of long-term infestation. The subsection on the mating calls of the common automobile is also fascinating.
I hope you don't have cause to buy a spotting list and start checking them off. My neighborhood is showing signs of being invaded by a species of pile driver next, and I've been seeing tracks from cement trucks.
I woke up once from a dream of fireworks to exploding paint cans in the shed across the street, which had caught fire and was burning both loudly and thickly (there was very heavy smoke) and periodically firing off these hollow incendiary bangs. We were in no danger and the fire department came exactly as they're supposed to, but I can't really recommend it. I woke up once in New Haven thinking I was in the middle of an earthquake, but it was construction with serious earth-moving beginning in my building's backyard.
In contrast, my best friend during her early childhood in China, slept through a rather monumental earthquake. This is more surprising when you realize that she was sleeping on the ceramic bed that connected to the family stove, where all her other family members were also sleeping.
I am glad that you do not generally wake in this fashion and I hope that it will be a short infestation and not for an entire season.
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My profoundest sympathies to you and yours, whether two- or four-footed.
My mother and I once drove one Siamese and one domestic long-haired cat from Florida to Minnesota. We were worried that the Siamese cat would drive us crazy, but though he did put himself on automatic and emit regular raucous protests, it was the tiny, tiny, eensy mew of the other cat that had us gibbering by the end of the day. One's cat in distress is never a pleasant sound, however, regardless of the exact register.
P.
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It's on Project Gutenberg. Also, thank you.
(I was really flattered. Conrad writes in dense evocative paragraphs and loved the sea.)
My profoundest sympathies to you and yours, whether two- or four-footed.
All mammals of the household appreciate it. (There exist some bugs of the household, but I don't care very much how they feel about jackhammers; anyway, Autolycus is hunting them as we speak.)
My mother and I once drove one Siamese and one domestic long-haired cat from Florida to Minnesota.
Yikes!
it was the tiny, tiny, eensy mew of the other cat that had us gibbering by the end of the day.
I can see that. I hope everyone has long since recovered from the experience!
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. . . Tell
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We once had some kind of construction down the block that jarred the house so much that spiders fell from their webs (probably still better than jackhammers, because largely vibratory and bass-like), but mostly I doubt that insects mind one way or the other. Our cats also hunt them, whether inside or out. It's June bug season and I fear for the screens.
Thank you, my mother's cats did recover from their ordeal and after a few days of sulking regained their sunny demeanor.
The human parts of the trip will think long and hard about ever driving cats anywhere again, however.
P.
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I missed Conrad in school, in the same way that I missed most of the Western canon after about the second century CE; I picked up Heart of Darkness on my own sometime in grad school, but I'm still way behind the curve. I like Freya of the Seven Isles (1912), an odd romantic novella with a tropical setting, and The Mirror of the Sea (1906), because it contains statements like this:
I have attempted here to lay bare with the unreserve of a last hour's confession the terms of my relation with the sea, which beginning mysteriously, like any great passion the inscrutable Gods send to mortals, went on unreasoning and invincible, surviving the test of disillusion, defying the disenchantment that lurks in every day of a strenuous life; went on full of love's delight and love's anguish, facing them in open-eyed exultation, without bitterness and without repining, from the first hour to the last.
I have actually read An Outcast of the Islands, but not recently enough to be able to talk intelligently about it; and I've read Nostromo (1904), because that happens to people who want to see if Ridley Scott was making any specific reference in Alien (1979). Otherwise, nothing. Now I feel like I should read a lot more!
It's June bug season and I fear for the screens.
We are having a similar problem, only it's moths on the other side of our screens. Hestia attacks them daily.
The human parts of the trip will think long and hard about ever driving cats anywhere again, however.
Understood!
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We did the then-usual Heart of Darkness, Lord Jim, and "The Secret Sharer." I remember liking the prose but not really the subject matter. I suspect that the class would have preferred the more romantic and fantastical stories, on the whole. I always meant to look them up. The passage you quote is wonderful. I see that I put Conrad in American literature above, which of course is nonsense; but I associate him so strongly with Hawthorne that it must have been a survey course of some kind.
Moths are greatly cherished here as well, but are currently in short supply. I sometimes feel that it would be better to just let or bring in a selection of insects, though the possible damage in that situation doesn't bear thinking of.
P.
That passage you quote is splendid.