Mouse update

I have officially lost my mind. I did not sleep last night. Whenever I would finally get settled, I would hear fidgetting in the corner of my room and jump up in alarm and grab something to throw. My mom told me to block the possible hole behind the radiator to bar the mouse's reentry. Unfortunately, that probably just trapped him in my room and made him freak out more.

By 3 am I gave up on sleep. I turned on all the lights (cfls, but still an inexcusable global warming impact) and the television. To distract myself, I did more mouse research followed by a quick kayak search of hotel rates. Unbelievably, I managed to stay up until 6 by watching univision and looking a clothes online (though I was derangedly jumping at every noise and shadow I sensed). Then, I finally calmed down and there was no more rustling. By 7, my roommate was up making noise and I was able to drift off to sleep before my alarm woke me up 30 minutes later.

As you can imagine, I'm tired and in a sour mood. I spent the morning inspecting the corners of my room and cleaning the kitchen (where mice definitely frequent). I am off to find traps for my room now and I am debating whether I will attempt another night of craziness (maybe I should buy ear plugs--though I guess that wouldn't curb my mouse dreams). Or I will request a corner in Shimmy-Shimmy house. Or I will break down and get a hotel room like my mother advised (she's even ready to come up and move me into a new place). I love my home but I am a wreck. That is unacceptable. I doubt sleeping on a friend's floor or a fluffy hotel bed will give me any peace of mind when I know that a mouse/mice are moving into my sanctuary.

Mice

Here I am sitting in my room afraid to turn off the lights, afraid of bedtime, afraid of quiet. I wish I was on my way to NC tonight (sorry A-M!).

I knew that it was only a matter of time. It's getting cooler outside and my housemates and I have been so busy that we've been less than careful about scrubbing down the counters and sweeping the floors. That is no excuse, but it is an explanation.

So, my house officially has a mouse problem. An exterminator came on Wednesday and noted that he found myriad holes near our house. He said that there was recently a major extermination a few houses down. I guess the whole family packed up and moved in. He said he didn't want to do anything until he talked to our landlady because it would be a major job ($$$). That made me worry but it wasn't unexpected.

For a while, I've heard scurrying between the walls. I thought that I was going crazy but it has woken me up on several occasions (horrid nightmares!). Finally, my roommate heard them as well. Now, I am certain of what I hear: a metal door (?) opening and closing, followed by scurrying in the walls in my room and in the ceiling. I can only imagine that one day the ceiling will fall, revealing a thousand beady eyes.

I saw a mouse in the kitchen earlier this week and now I fear that its cousin is in my bedroom. Although I cleaned my room earlier this week, I left a slightly exposed bar of chocolate out last night. I didn't wrap it as carefully as I should have given that our place is probably a multi-mouse family home. Today, I found my beautiful Ghirardelli Midnight Delight gnawed at the end. Gross. I believe that it came through the hole behind the radiator. Given all that I've read on the web about mice, it doesn't seem like much can deter them. They can squeeze into spaces a quarter of an inch wide, leap into the air, and crawl up vertical spaces. No wonder it was able to get at the delectable treat on my nightstand.

I am tempted to crash at a friend's house or check into a hotel tonight. If only Gray Cat wasn't the carrier of an unknown infection, he'd be sitting right next to me right now. I am utterly grossed out, afraid, and angry at myself. If only I had wrapped that chocolate bar last night. I've broken my no-food-in-the-bedroom rule over the past months and now I am facing the consequences. My roommates eat in their rooms, but they've never reported any problems. Just me.

At the same time, this problem is a whole house problem. We've had mice in the kitchen since I arrived and my landlady recalled an infestation years ago owing to the basement tenant's storage of many bags of dry dog food.

So why the fuck is our landlady taking so long about hiring someone to destroy every creature that has more than two legs in our house (especially now that the exterminator expects a major infestation)? I believe in humane killing but in this situation--where I know a successful extermination in our house will merely result in emigration to a neighbor's house--I say bring on the poison. Kill them all.

Okay, now back to making lots of noise and debating whether I should sleep on my futon or a friend's floor. The problem is that I can't sleep on someone's floor or in a hotel until my landlady finally decides to hire an exterminator and he is able to work his magic on them.

Ugh.

Chill-ax

Today is the last day of my self-imposed house arrest. I have been so tired and overwhelmed about work and I figured that this recess week was a good time to take some deserved days off.

It has been a great vacation from work and worries. I caught up on sleep, did countless loads of laundry, cleaned my room, watched movies, danced to too loud music, finally made mexican food, and read a lot (mainly twilight again).

I am a bit restless to return to work and that routine. I really do like my job and the people I get to work with even if there is a tendency for burnout.

I think I will take more random days off in december. It is always good to recharge your batteries and take time off to just be yourself. It's something that I hadn't done in awhile, and that I hope to do more regularly now.

Twi-hard?

Last night, I finished the last book in the Twilight series. Reading the books has consumed my life during the past two weeks. I shunned outside activities, stayed up late and woke up early almost everyday just so that I could read a few more pages. I put aside the disturbing but equally captivating book that I had been reading, The Picture of Dorian Gray. As soon as I am able to move forward from my lingering thoughts and unresolved questions about the Twilight story, I shall return to Dorian Gray. I just wonder when and if my brain will be able to move from Twilight.

It is funny that just as I shunned Harry Potter for years, I was reluctant to read Twilight. But as I was doubtful that a "kids book about wizards" would be able to truly capture me, I was doubtful that a silly teeny-bopper, fantasy book would even come close to having the beauty and complexity of my favorite Austen and Hardy classics. But something—a combination of being hooked on the CW’s rather tame Vampire Diaries and the encouragement of friends—convinced me to start reading the books. I am so happy that I did.

I am in love with the story of Twilight. Sure, it may never be as close to my heart as Persuasion. But, something about the idea of love, true love, being the purpose for and quest of your life has filled me with joy. I was engaged by the love story, by the conflict, and by the supernatural world Stephenie Meyer created. Of course, like many, I cringed at the incomplete editing and other flaws that appeared in the book (It was interesting to watch how her writing and voice became stronger over the series). But after the first few chapters, it no longer mattered. The story had a way of sucking me in and making me anxious to discover the resolution of Bella’s story and in an odd way, it charged me to find resolution in my own life.

This means that it made me think a lot about Floyd. Wondering if Floyd is my Edward, my true love. But I’ll save that for anther day. As I will also think later about how the book and Meyer’s somewhat unplanned ascent to authorhood has inspired me to write again. I’m not so deranged to think that a beloved story of my own will come in a dream, but I am excited about the possibility that I, too, could create characters and a story as vivid and satisfying.

For now, I give two thumbs up for the Twilight saga. It is intoxicating, frightening, and enjoyable. I look forward to reading the books again, less anxiously, so that I can have an even greater appreciation and understanding of how the author was able to weave such a beautiful story. So though, I’m not quite a Twi-hard, I am deeply reverent of how her story has moved me.

Balvenie Tasting

I believe that I shared my experiences at Johnny Walker and Macallen tasting events on this blog, so it is only fitting that I report back on the Balvenie tasting I attended this week with G.F.A. (We miss you A-M!). The tasting was intended to celebrate the new 17-year Madeira. It was held at PS7, a hip restaurant in Chinatown that I vaguely remember going to for dinner a few months ago. But I’m thinking that the experience/food wasn’t that memorable as I only remember a good salad and an odd desert.

First of all, let me complain about the venue. I don’t know who planned the event but they definitely need some lessons on fire code. I felt like a cow in a pen as they didn’t seem to have a strict rsvp or guest policy and instead opted to pack as many people into the inadequate room that they reserved for the event.

The tasting itself was pleasurable. I got to taste many of the hors d’oeuvres (pumpkin soup and lobster torchon!) that were paired with the 4 types of Balvenie scotch that freely flow at the different stations. I actually didn’t enjoy the Madiera-17, preferring the 15-wooden cask that supposedly had a higher alcohol count. Regardless, I was pretty drunk by the end of the night so G.F.A. and I headed to Five Guys to absorb all the scotch we imbibed.

That night, I also stole for the first time. It is shameful, I know. But I was set on getting a token for A-M. At all the other events, a memento pin (Johnny Walker) or glass (Macallen) was provided to the participants. So, I lifted one of the Balvenie-inscribed glasses. Hopefully, all the good karma points I’ve racked up over the years will spare me from any repercussions.

I was a great experience. I am still not sold on whiskey but after attending three events (and hearing all about its glorious wonders and history), I finally do have a greater appreciation of the dark liquor.

Mellon Collie

It was a good weekend highlighted by the acceptance of my sense of melancholy. The approaching winter and its cold temperatures and shorter days always has a way of dampening my spirits but I sense that my melancholy is also due to my anxiety about my direction in life and more acutely, my work-life balance. I blame it on Floyd, of course.

I was sad but oddly euphoric this summer after being freed from our relationship rollercoaster. It was exhilarating to be single and a little selfish. That lasted until now. Now, I’m feeling lonely and a little lost. And the distraction of work—instead of adding to my sense of direction, meaning and worth (as it once did) has begun to slowly feel like another shackle I must break free.

Over the weekend, in chatting with a bubbly Organica, the reality of my outlook became apparent. The question now is if I am ready to do something about it or if I’ve entered yet another “dark” phase in my life—similar to the one I experienced during most of my college years of trying to find myself.

It is amazing that one can feel at the top of her career and personal life for months, only to have everything change in the next. More than ever, I need inspiration and an outlet. Writing no longer thrills me so I’m thinking about ballroom dancing or taking up an instrument.

Of course, I also need to reevaluate my life plans as they are the real culprit. It is a possibility that I will disregard my Administration hopes in favor of a radical change. That would mean no more DC but the fulfillment of my lifelong goal of living in NYC and abroad. Doing what, I have no idea but I at least have money saved (for a down payment…) that could be tapped for this venture. Leaving is probably the most foolish thing I could do right now given the economy and my career trajectory. But I can’t seem to ignore any longer the nagging feeling that now is the time to fulfill a few more of my personal dreams.

I must remember to breathe as I've done this before. Only last year I left the secure world of nonprofits for a low-paying, unknown Hill job just so that I could check it off my DC-list before heading to the Peace Corps. I've had an amazing year because of that decision and I'd imagine that pushing myself again to do something totally different will also reward me with new experiences, friends, knowledge, and memories.

Tengo Frio

So here is the prerequisite whiny blog about the changing weather. I feel that I’ve spent way too many entries over the years complaining—about the weather, my love life (or lack thereof), my annoying roommates, etc. But where else would I complain if not on my blog? So here goes:

It is so cold outside! Where did the fall and its gradual cooling go? I’ve added a new layer to my bed each night this week and I’m thinking about digging up my thermals for this weekend. My shared house is so drafty and I don’t think that we plan on activating the radiator just yet.

After years of complaining about the winter and promising that I wouldn’t spend another year in DC, here I am again. I should either stop complaining and accept that if I want to live and work in the land of federal policy opportunity, I have to deal with being cold. Or I can finally move to Miami. Then, I’d have beautifully warm/hot weather all year long. Hurricanes are nothing as long as I don’t have to face months of cold, windy and damp walks home from the metro in the dark (you know the sun sets by 5 pm around December).

So this marks the end of my social life until the spring. I rarely leave my house after sunset when it is cold. It was a good summer and spring and I look forward to peeling off the layers and applying only one, thin layer of lotion in a mere 6 months.

For all you Northerners and winter-lovers out there, say what you will. I am from the South and anything below 70-75 degrees is chilly.

Dandiya Raas

I had a delightful weekend—which might explain the blahs I’m feeling today. The highlight was definitely attending a Dandiya Raas dance at GW. I was a bit reluctant to accept my friend’s invitation to join her and her friends. I have begun to eschew public dancing (in the absence of liquor) as I have gotten more self-conscious with age. But her enthusiasm, along with her reiterated promise that a certain individual would be in attendance, changed my mind. It didn’t hurt that she promised each of us a tradition Indian dress to wear.

I wore an intricately beaded, red tunic that was paired with a floor length, full shirt. It was beautiful—and heavy. I think wearing the outfit put me in the mood because I danced most of the night. There were so many beautiful, colorful outfits. Everyone seemed to sparkle and shine. First, we danced the 5-step and 12-step with dandiya sticks (which my friend taught us with large kitchen spoons before we left her house). Then, there was about an hour of free-style dancing which was also fun.

It was definitely an experience that I will never forget, and I hope that I get to do it again soon.

A Mouse

I don’t recall if I’ve shared my experience with critters in my new place. My last shared house did not have many critter issues. My new place does. It’s an old house. Plus, it is probably our fault given that we like to keep certain windows open and the front and back door open to create an indoor breeze.

Regardless, this week, I got my first glimpse of the mini-mouse (No, not Minnie Mouse. That would be cool) that inhabits our kitchen. When I first moved in, my roommates warned me that there had been mouse sightings in the kitchen. So, I was prepared to keep things clean and make a lot of noise in the kitchen to keep it at bay. It worked until this week.

I was washing dishes at the sink—grooving along to Beyonce or whatever was playing on the radio, when a tiny mouse appeared at the sink. I screamed bloody murder and froze as it quickly scurried behind the faucet and made for the crack between the counter and the oven. I’ve seen street rats and dead mice before, but never a live mouse. It was cute, I guess. But it has to go. (The only exception to my “no critters in the house rule” is for spiders because they tend to keep everything else away.)

Last night, my roommate set a humane trap for the mouse and volunteered to release it whenever it is caught. I do believe in animal rights but I prefer the old-fashion trap. It’s cheap and allows for a quicker death—compared to awful glue traps or environmentally unsound poison. Plus, isn’t it less humane to release it into our neighborhood which is teaming with stray cats, fast cars, and unknown food supplies? And, I’m sure that there is a mouse family leaving there. So we’re basically kidnapping the breadwinner and leaving the babies to die from starvation. Or worse, a new family will move in. I’m tempted to invite gray cat into the house to take care of it as that seems like the most natural end. But first, I need to resolve gray cat’s unidentified health issues.

Dual Monitors

I almost feel like I belong on Wall Street. I got a second monitor added to my computer this week, after months of hesitation. I doubted that a slight increase in productivity was really worth less desk space.

Although it is taking me a while to get use to having documents open on two different screens, I love having my email inbox permanent displayed while I pursue tasks on the other monitor. Plus it’s great for when I’m editing multiple documents or accessing a remote computer.

I’ll report back on whether my productivity has actually increased. But as of Day 2, I’m totally sold.

The Cats

Monday evening was almost out of a Hitchcock film. I arrived home a little later than normal. I checked for Gray Cat but didn’t see him. So I decided to put out some food anyway, knowing that he’d always had a way of showing up a few minutes after I or my roommate came home.

Soon after pouring the normal serving of Iams (yes, after consulting with Celestyn, I was guilted into buying the “nicer” stuff), a white and brown cat that I’ve never seen before appeared on the porch. I shrugged and let him at the dish, figuring that enough would be left for the Gray Cat. An hour or so later, my roommate came home and commented that two cats (including Gray Cat) were on the porch looking for food. I told her that I already put food out and went to the door to check the situation for myself.

I found three cats at the front door looking in at me through the glass. At first, I was moved---they really are cute in a scraggly sort of way. But then, when I saw another cat walking onto the porch I started to freak out. It was a little too reminiscent of “The Birds.” A row of cats looking through the glass door while at least one other cat paced behind them.

I am heartless. Ignoring their expectant, hungry stares, I turned the lights out and went upstairs.

I couldn’t imagine filling a single bowl with food to be shared by four or more hungry cats. Plus, I don’t like the idea of feeding every stray in my ‘hood. I just don’t have the money to buy that much cat food. Plus, I don’t think that my neighbors or roommates would appreciate it if I turned our front porch into stray cat central.

So, I will continue to feed and take care of Gray Cat. I will probably even take him to the vet soon as he seems sick. But I can’t go out of my way to help out the others. It is sad that there are so many stray and feral cats in my area. I can only hope that the other houses in my neighborhood are continuing to feed them and that organizations like Alley Cat Allies continue to exist.

Four Eyes

This morning my glasses finally broke. The left arm fell off and it has nothing to do with the screw--which means I can't attempt a tape job as before. After consulting with my eyeglass place and a repair shop, it is certain that they can't be fixed without shelling out $70. That almost how much they cost with my insurance. I must purchase a new pair.

I hate shopping for glasses. It truly takes me multiple, repeat visits to various eye glass places until I find a pair that is similar to the old pair

It's an important purchase because it's the one thing (beside my hairstyle...) that I wear everyday. It is also my only regular accessory and fashion statement.

I want dark brown frames with a subtle 1950s cat-eye, basically a new version of the glasses I have now. But of course the brand/style I have is no longer carried and I am forced (as I am every two years) to try on a hundred pairs until I resign myself to the pair I sorta like and eventually come to love.

Please wish me luck and great speed with my search. My eyes and bridge are already unhappy with my super-old pair.

Back in D.C.

I am back to my routine in D.C. I had a really great time in Atlanta. I am very glad that I went home as I was reminded of the importance of putting family and friends first--something I haven't been doing much of lately.

The ride down to ATL was eventless but I enjoyed spending time with my high school buddy and his wife. I definitely plan to spend some time with them, especially as they live only a few blocks away from me.

As expected, my friend's mom's funeral service was heartbreaking. It was a little nontraditional as there weren't any religious references and the time was spent with folks sharing stories and memories. It was simple, moving, informal and classy. It was the sort of service that I want when it is my time.

The rest of the weekend was spent hanging out with my friend and the rest of the gang. It was a lovely, unplanned reunion that reminded all of us of how much we love, care and support each other.

As a special bonus, I also got to see my grandmother--who is still recovering from a series of minor heart attacks this year. She'll be 91 next month.

Family and friends. It's something that an independent-antisocial Hippo tends to take for granted. I think that might finally change.

Unplanned Reunion

Tomorrow, I am going home to spend time with my friends and family. Last weekend, the mother of one of my best friends from high school died. Our little circle is making the pilgrimage to be there for her.

It is crazy how funerals can bring people together. Many of us haven't hung out together since college, or even high school. But we will all be there this weekend to support our friend. I guess it is a testament to the strength of the bonds we formed.

The death of my friend's mom reminds me of the death of my own father and the death of another of our friend's mother. It is natural for a child to bury a parent but it seems unscripted for a parent to die relatively young, i.e., before meeting their grandkids.

I can't wait to go home and give all my friends and family members a hug. I particularly want to embrace my friend and help her deal with her lost (by getting drunk and pigging out on greasy food). This is one of life's unavoidable milestones and I can only hope that my friend is able to move forward.

Summertime

I can't believe the summer is nearly over. I am so amazed by how busy, stressful, productive and fun this summer has been. I think that I have made great progress in dealing with life post-Floyd (though I hope our conversation a few days ago hasn't set me back. He--or perhaps, we--has a way of planting seeds that find a way to haunt later.)

I am keen on finishing up this year the right way. I had dinner with Chatty-Chica a few days ago and she recommended that I create a year plan, a sort of bucket list, to ensure that I accomplish my short term goals--like riding to the top of the Washington Monument during the extended summer hours. It took me 9 years to take the elevator to the top (partly the fault of the renovation...) and I would hate to wait another 9 years before I got around to a trip at night.

My other, more significant goals include traveling. There is a January Mexico girls' trip in the works right now, and I think A-M and I are still aiming for Europe next summer. Other items include connecting with old friends, volunteering every month in my hood, working on my downward dog, seeing at least one show a season at the kennedy center or equivalent, and surpassing 20,000 words in my novel.

I plan on writing out my list this weekend, signing it and treating it like a contract. I am tired of putting off or not taking time for those certain things that I really enjoy but rarely have the time for. I feel that this is the perfect time for reevaluating the direction and wealth of my personal life and doing all I can to make it balanced and thereby, more fulfilling. Yes, this is possibly a part of the "almost 30 panic," but regardless it is still a Hippo Q. sort of thing to do.