pet station 0819Oh, animals. . . One day after touting big, bad Oz, chasing off on quixotic midnight quests after creatures unknown, I found myself awakened at 3 a.m. by same big bad dog trying desperately to climb into bed with me — something he has only done previously on Fourths of July as fireworks explode everywhere.

So then, as he’s shifting around trying to get comfortable at my expense, I’m growing more and more awake and wondering what, exactly, has him so spooked, and is the noise on the floor that I assumed was Na Ki’o really Ki’o, or some strange creature? Eventually I thought I heard a chirp, not of the creature kind but of the smoke detector kind, like when batteries are running low, but I believe ours are hard-wired into the house, and then I didn’t hear it again.

As suddenly as he’d arrived, Oz was gone. Crisis, whatever it might have been, averted for the moment.

Then Na Ki’o climbed on the bed and proceeded to gag and hack. I can’t decide if he’s working on a large hairball, of if his asthma is bothering him more. I was hoping it would bother him less, but perhaps the stress of moving has amped it a bit. Or, when I’m not looking, in the most inconvenient place possible, he will expel a hairball.

And what of Marrakesh? What, indeed. He spent his second consecutive and third total night at the vet’s last night, continuing to baffle his doctor. An x-ray Monday showed completely full bowels, and some large mass (not a tumor — I asked) in his stomach. He spent yesterday eliminating all of this blockage, and the mass appears to have been some large hank of hair. Either a giant hairball, or possibly a souvenir from the eviscerated bunny Lynn found in the yard shortly before we moved.

At any rate, everything’s now out, and he ate heartily during the night. His doctor reported he was a completely different cat this morning, accompanying her on early morning chores and rubbing against her, demanding attention. But he still has a fever, and she doesn’t understand why. She’s still leaning toward viral, but it’s lingering longer than expected. We’re going to try bringing him home again at lunchtime.

He might not recognize the place, however, since Shelf-a-Palooza is firmly underway. He probably will not care, but the pet feeding station is almost complete. It would be complete, except that Lynn and I can’t figure out how to put the drawers back in the cabinet. (Nothing like construction to make one feel inept.)

Did I say that the refrigerator we bought that traveled all over the Midwest turns out to be more dented than previously thought? Sam tilted it over yesterday, and the bottom has a big dent heretofore unseen. And it turns out, now that I’m a daily Walmart shopper, that all we had to do was wait until this week and we could have had the same black cube (different brand, probably no markers to write on the front) for $12 less and no dents. No sawdust, either.

Speaking of dents, our second microwave had to go back to True Value, where the owner has vowed to open the third one, whenever it arrives, and inspect it closely before sending it out in intact packaging that lulls one into thinking there are no problems contained within. So Lynn’s $50 Walmart microwave, which seemed initially like it might be wasted money, has turned out to be the smartest purchase we’ve made so far.

So we have a counter for the pet station. I opted for blue Marmoleum rather than the purple Summer Pudding of the floor. We weren’t sure there were enough leftover pieces, and we’re planning to paint the door, and blue seems like the option there. It’s a lot of colors crammed into a small space, but since it’s trying to be all things to all people, perhaps that’s appropriate.

Today the shelves go over the washing machine, which is much deeper than I planned for. We are going to be on ladders and stepstools constantly in our stairless house.

Speaking of stepstools, Dusty made one for my steam shower, because getting in was easy enough, but the drop down when getting out was daunting. This is better, and I would say I’m halfway to figuring out all the parts of my shower. Someone recommended Youtube, but all I’ve found so far are pretty pictures of the shower unit and nothing anymore helpful than the non-existent instructions.

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A file cabinet still in the middle of the room. Don’t worry; it’s going elsewhere as soon as I bring the dolly from work to move it.

A shelf has gone across all the doors in my room. I thought about going around other walls, but I’m liking the clean lines in the new house, and Dusty pointed out it would interfere with the paint lines.

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Lynn’s glass shelves went up in her room yesterday, although apparently she had to do a lot of explaining to get the guys to understand what she wanted. They finally got there; now all she has to do is put stuff on them. Sam also hung the new pictures she ordered for her bathroom, since we only have a roomful of art awaiting placement on walls.

Shelf-a-Palooza was continuing as I left this morning, but the centerpiece, the library shelves, likely are waiting for a week or two. Dusty wants to turn his attention to seeding the barren dirt outside, and then he’s off to a folk-music festival (Four Corners?) for another long weekend.

(I could complain, but all of my weeks are short these days. These years. I thought perhaps, and so possibly did my colleagues, that once I got moved in my schedule might return to normal, but Marrakesh and Shelf-a-Palooza have made hash of that thought.)

But we’re progressing, and that ought to count for something, right?

New pictures in Lynn’s bathroom, because nothing we already had on hand was zen enough.

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