Yes, we mithed Caturday thankth to a lithping computer. It was a much loved older laptop that was given to us by a friend. It was still running on Windows XP and couldn’t be upgraded, but it did the job nicely… until the other day when the S quit working. I thought maybe thomething was thtuck under the key, but alath, no. Then an hour later, it was followed by the 2, W, X and caps lock. Damn!
The lithp was cute, but it ceased being cute when the other keys up and quit in protest. We still need a bigger/faster laptop for working on photos, but we managed to get a little one that keep us going until we get the other one in a week or two. It’s an HP Stream 11 and it was less than $200.
So this lil’ guy shall be (mostly) mine and I shall call it CASE. The more powerful one which we’re getting for Rudha-an we’ll call TARS.
Yeah. We really did like “Interstellar”. This past week has been a long one, with training on Tuesday which split my days off, before the warm up to the 4th of July celebrations at work and unexpected overtime. We’ve also experienced some internet connectivity issues which should be resolved by next week.
Now, this Caturday, I ought to talk about sharing quarters in the Endurance with the three Catonauts. That means discussing litterboxes, theirs and ours, and the struggle for breathable air. If it weren’t for potential copyright issues, I might have renamed the Endurance “Cat Shit One”. Every time I have to reach for stuff in storage on the lower bunk, which is danger-close to the cats’ port-a-potty, the smell badgers me like a used car salesman from Fremont (I’ll explain later). Shallow breaths only help so much before fireflies dance in front of you. Then you’re light headed and the cat crap is still harping on about “hey man, I’m in your nose trying to find your lungs and all, mind if I stop in the back of your throat, just long enough so you can taste it? ”
Meanwhile, your tongue is like a drunken mechanic in the backseat feeling suicidal, thinking he could just open that door and ooze out into 50 miles an hour traffic (again, I’ll explain later).
Well. That’s bad enough, but we have our own septic issues to manage.
See, on a trailer, what they call the black tank is essentially an on board septic tank. And you know, nature’s way of telling you to empty that tank is through what scientists call olfactory assault. Your sinuses texting your brain furiously to point out that if they’re expected to block the stink, the brain best send a hand with tweezers to pluck some nose hairs and stop the nostrils with mucus. The brain, who’s had enough, texting back that he’s already had to deal with the cats’ litter box which is exactly three feet from the humans’ bathroom, and that the stomach is no help whatsoever. None,
I digress. There are enzymes you drop in the black tank to neutralize the oh-dears.There’s also the “trick” of pouring a little diluted bleach down the hatch. So, you know, we can cope. It’s just that when the weather’s hot and you had the half-pounder at Fuddrucker’s, timing becomes critical is all…
Now, time for the mission specialists to shine…
This is good advice from Jackson Galaxy (My Cat From Hell). Without cable, we don’t watch his show on the tv. We do follow him on FB and stream some of his shows via Netflix. This one fits our topic of cat poop rather well. 🙂