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The week at Chez Rattus
May. 23rd, 2010 12:45 pmWinter is thinking about a trip to Perth.
Work went okay this week; am managing to wrap my mind around the new formats required for transcribing County Court. After 17 years, the gulag is venturing into the region of criminal courts and juries. They do things differently there. I find, curiously or perhaps not so curiously, that learning board games rules helps me to learn this kind of thing. If this situation, then this. This always applies, except when this event occurs.
I made two trips to the gym. Two visits per week is fine, they say, though clearly they believe more is better. It takes time to adjust one's life to this.
Magnus, my beautiful agouti-hooded rat, needed to go to the vet. The congestion in his lungs wasn't responding to the treatment he'd had; we needed to change drugs. He wasn't thrilled about being stuffed into a rat carrier and then my backpack but until the train authorities relax their "pets on public transport" rule, smuggling has to be the way. He seems to be improving, at least some, four days later. And thank god I don't have a screamer at the moment. Henry II was my only rat who had to be treated by the local vets (didn't know much about rats) because when he wanted out, he wanted OUT, NOW, and would eek like one suffering the tortures of the damned until you let him out. Thanks Henry. Thanks heaps. The local vets charge a much heftier consultation fee than the vets I usually go to, who were local to my previous abode. Anyway, Magnus is well-behaved so we did fine.
A little rain fell on Friday. After work, I put a long woollen coat, very elegant, on layby. I'd been thinking about it for a few weeks - it is expensive but my only alternative for heavy duty winter wear is my rather battered leather jacket. By the time I get the coat paid off, I'll need it. Then I'll have it to wear to Melbourne, where I'm definitely going to need it, during the week I'm there for Worldcon.
The rain settled in on Saturday, so one spent the day hanging washing and then rushing it back inside. This is a more normal winter pattern for us but it's been a while since Perth weather did normal.
Saturday night was the Call of Cthulhu game at the Gamers Guild in town. For a wonder, all players were present and conscious and we had a new person ask to join, so that meant five players yammering at once, trying to get![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
drhoz's attention :-) My character, Amy Wells, came dangerously close to death, floating on the ocean and about to be chomped by Deep Ones, but she was miraculously rescued by the Marines, though a bit shakier in her sanity than she was before. This game was about my only social outlet this week, so please forgive my tendency to interrupt and leap into things, fellow players. After a week listening to lawyers, small talk with workmates or chatting to rats, it's quite overwhelming to be among humans who "speak my language."
Quote in the game, from an NPC, an old woman in Innsmouth, collecting bits of washed-up Deep Ones to be made into marmalade:
"It's just not right for people to be turned into fish."
Work went okay this week; am managing to wrap my mind around the new formats required for transcribing County Court. After 17 years, the gulag is venturing into the region of criminal courts and juries. They do things differently there. I find, curiously or perhaps not so curiously, that learning board games rules helps me to learn this kind of thing. If this situation, then this. This always applies, except when this event occurs.
I made two trips to the gym. Two visits per week is fine, they say, though clearly they believe more is better. It takes time to adjust one's life to this.
Magnus, my beautiful agouti-hooded rat, needed to go to the vet. The congestion in his lungs wasn't responding to the treatment he'd had; we needed to change drugs. He wasn't thrilled about being stuffed into a rat carrier and then my backpack but until the train authorities relax their "pets on public transport" rule, smuggling has to be the way. He seems to be improving, at least some, four days later. And thank god I don't have a screamer at the moment. Henry II was my only rat who had to be treated by the local vets (didn't know much about rats) because when he wanted out, he wanted OUT, NOW, and would eek like one suffering the tortures of the damned until you let him out. Thanks Henry. Thanks heaps. The local vets charge a much heftier consultation fee than the vets I usually go to, who were local to my previous abode. Anyway, Magnus is well-behaved so we did fine.
A little rain fell on Friday. After work, I put a long woollen coat, very elegant, on layby. I'd been thinking about it for a few weeks - it is expensive but my only alternative for heavy duty winter wear is my rather battered leather jacket. By the time I get the coat paid off, I'll need it. Then I'll have it to wear to Melbourne, where I'm definitely going to need it, during the week I'm there for Worldcon.
The rain settled in on Saturday, so one spent the day hanging washing and then rushing it back inside. This is a more normal winter pattern for us but it's been a while since Perth weather did normal.
Saturday night was the Call of Cthulhu game at the Gamers Guild in town. For a wonder, all players were present and conscious and we had a new person ask to join, so that meant five players yammering at once, trying to get
drhoz's attention :-) My character, Amy Wells, came dangerously close to death, floating on the ocean and about to be chomped by Deep Ones, but she was miraculously rescued by the Marines, though a bit shakier in her sanity than she was before. This game was about my only social outlet this week, so please forgive my tendency to interrupt and leap into things, fellow players. After a week listening to lawyers, small talk with workmates or chatting to rats, it's quite overwhelming to be among humans who "speak my language."Quote in the game, from an NPC, an old woman in Innsmouth, collecting bits of washed-up Deep Ones to be made into marmalade:
"It's just not right for people to be turned into fish."