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The Toybox

people for the conservation of limited amounts of indignation


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late afternoon on the ranch
children of dune - leto 1
seperis
Park

Sometimes, I think, when I was around eight? I think to myself, like this, and sometimes out loud, 'Self, when you were eight? Did you ever see yourself on your hand and knees with a bottle of bleach cleansing spray, a washcloth, a vacuum, a stack of newspapers, a new bag of hay, and a bitter, bitter smile?'

Self answers in the negative. And you might ask yourself, what do these things have in common? They are How To Clean an Epically Messy Rabbit Condo from Hell, Unabridged Version AKA Revenge of the Rabbits for Leaving Them With My Sister While Wandering Off to Chicago.

I spot cleaned most of this week, just not having the energy to tackle the full horror, but I sat down to finally put that thing to rights and be less of a health-hazard and--oh my God, it was even *worse*. I just can't figure out how they did it. It's like--I mean, they don't have opposable thumbs. I just--no. Let's not go there. Anyway, started with Mr. Waffles Who Sprays Me in teh penthouse, cleaned and bleached, worked my way down. I shut down the ground floor--the entire structure is not the most--sound anyway, and closing it off both restricts them from making a huge mess out of th hardest to clean area, but also has the added value of stabilizing the entire cage amazingly. when my sister returns my camera, I'll take pictures, but honestly, it looks just like before, jsut the bottom opening is closed.

After laying down several more layers of newspaper, I decided that what the rabbits need is a shelf, so built that inside, but I'm thinking this entire design is the wrong idea. I'm just not sure what I can put up that will work as well and won't take up more space, which I just don't have. I could build another layer upward, but the damn thing already comes up to my collarbone, and no one wants to hear sad reports of my untimely death due to falling while petting my rabbits. I mean, I know two people who would? But I feel no need to oblige them.

So basically, I have my rabbits back in habitable housing and I still haven't unpacked--I unpack the old fashioned way, by rooting around for things I need and eventually teh suitcase comes clean. You'd think it'd be easier just to unpack? And you'd be right. Sad, that.

Shift

I'm having one of those days where I feel like being very spiteful. I'm pretty sure three quarters of this originates from the fact I sat outside spraying down my rabbits' litter boxes and being up my wrist in rabbit droppings and a--really, I really don't need to relive this.

But yes. Spite. I'm in that place. Or at least low key sarcasm. Maybe not so low key. Maybe blatant.

Drive

And to close.

About five or six years ago, my grandfather was mayor pro-tem of a ridiculously small town in a forgettable part of Texas. He and my grandmother were friends with everyone, belonged to the Church, the various smalltown organizations, the heritage society, the blah blah socialcakes. They were liked. Then during his short time as pro-tem mayor, my grandfather and grandmother were reviled and mutters of outsiders were made, and their social activities in the small town were curtailed sharply. It didn't matter what they did--it mattered who they were, or the position my grandfather held. Short version, they eventually moved and other stuff occurred and they went on with their lives and never spoke of this again. They eventually moved back and started up where they left off. It was surprisingly easy, I think. Or so I have heard.

I think they forgave and forgot. Weirdly, I didn't.


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I feel you pain, no really! I used to breed Maine Coon Cats and had many, many dirty litter boxes and cages to clean daily. And as an added bonus---the stink of an intact male's urine. Now *that* would clear your sinuses out in a hurry. That's why I don't do it anymore. :)

Suddenly, I don't mind at all that I don't have pet rabbits.

You know, at least rabbits usually don't have that much stuff in their cages, I mean they just hop around, and have a house and stuff for food and water, right? OTOH the floors of my rat cage and their toilet sandbox aren't a problem, it's their climbing tubes (both straight and winding), their hanging sleeping baskets, their cloth cuddle tunnel, and their hammock, all places where they like to sleep and inexplicably also pee. And I don't even bother anymore doing more for the ropes, wooden hanging bridge and branches than wiping them down a bit with a rag every now and then.

I unpack exactly the same way.

In fact? I almost need the bottle of lotion and maybe to look at the papers that have been in there since the trip to Oregon in May. We'll see, though. Those papers may end up making the trip to WinchesterCon with me.

Have good coffee. Read good porn. Find somewhere satisfying to unload your bitterness, possibly involving a slow-acting poison, a board with a nail in it, and anyone who has ever incurred your wrath.

I think they forgave and forgot. Weirdly, I didn't.

not so weird. we naturally find it easier to forgive slights against ourselves than against our loved ones...

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