kittydesade | (no subject)

ag [location] an [noun] = at the something of the something
Keep in mind the eclipses

ag bun an cupán, at the bottom of the cup
ag bun an bord, at the end of the table
ag barr an staighre, at the top of the stairs

ag an mbord, at the table
ag an doras, at the door
ag an gcistin, at the kitchen
ag an ngairdín, at the garden
ag an ngeatá, at the gate

i [location/noun] = in something
Keep in mind dropping the definite article, changing preposition, and lenition.

sa chistin, in the kitchen
sa ghairdín, in the garden
sa ghloine, in the glass
sa chupán, in the cup

i do chóta, in your coat
i do teach, in your house
i do ghloine, in your glass

And off Memrise, since it's actually almost easier:
cupán, cupáin - cups
doras, doirse - door
bord, boird - table
duine, daoine - person
cóta, cótaí - coat
fear, fir - man
gasúr, gasúir - child

Oh kitten, my kitten. Murdock is officially too crazy for the Humane Society to handle. Fortunately they don't really have to, the only thing we needed them to do was chip him. They were in there for forty five minutes. The poor woman said she'd handled feral cats that were better behaved. Of course, the second he got back to us he crouched down and licked my fingers. Mommy! They were mean to me! Yeah, no, you little shit, I know you and your ferocious anti-vet ways.

So we got the chip in its injector case and took him to the vet. The vet techs took one look at him and went back into the employee area, reappearing in leather gauntlets up to the elbow and wielding a net. They know Murdock well. He was back there for about thirty minutes, the first five of which were accompanied by yowling and thumps. Then everything was quiet. About halfway through they came out and said "he's all quiet now, we'll just monitor him a little longer and then you can take him home." Meanwhile we're chatting over cat stories with the receptionist, who calls him our "wild man."

Of course, now he's up and moving, for a drunken sailor version of up and moving. Still, that's one item off on my to-do list, one cat safely home and moderately healthy, double checking with the vet how long it should take to wear off. And we never have to do that with him again, yay!

It looks like I'm down to data checking on house stuff again. I dropped the contract info off at the lawyer's and now I just wait for their phone call. I can at least check on fire ordinances and lead paint removal in the area, and maybe collect numbers of bug sprayers and see if they have price listings. It probably will be cheaper just to do it ourselves. I don't even know where the four or five wasps we saw are coming from, the boy didn't say he found any nests in the attic and the one nest I found chunks of on the balcony looked fairly dead. Still. Wasps. The bumblebees may live.

I can't believe I'm going to become a homeowner. It's like now that I have room to breathe I have room for the absurdity of it to hit me. What the hell? I'm not a responsible adult, I'm a frivolous person who likes her shinies and instant gratification. I'm a teenager still, dammit, maybe not in body but certainly in attitude. Or I'd like to have that kind of careless fickle attention to what's shiny and cool and little else. Being an adult is too much hassle.

(And, you know, then again, being an adult has led me to dig into the process of getting a fucking awesome house so hard I'm actually fooling everyone into thinking I can do it. Shhh, don't tell anyone.)

I shouldn't say things like that. I can totally do it when I'm not thinking about how this is what responsible and diligent persons do. It's not so much that I don't think I'm either of those things, it's that when I'm tired I either whine about how much work it all is or freak out that I'm going to do something stupid and blow it. And I'm really heading towards tired, right now. Still. It's the weekend. If nothing else I can catch up on sleep.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Bug spray? Pffft. Grenades.

Appropriate icon is appropriate. Hey, we won't be in the house for a while after we take possession, we could totally bugbomb it.

And all the bugs in your house will stage some American Tail-esque exodus to the promised land of your nearest neighbor's yard.

THAT'S FINE. They can have my wasps. No wasps for me.

Tangentially, did you know you can rent bees?

Aw, but the wasps swarm all over you in anticipation of the slightest threat, real or imagined!

I did not! But it doesn't surprise me. One of the clients at my last job was a member of a local beekeeper's association and she talked about how the members trucked their bees/hives around for all kinds of reasons. Why, were you thinking of starting a hive? I hear it's fun!

They do, it's true. They smell fear. Or even a mild intimidation.

Not so much starting a hive of my own, I have way too many projects already, but maybe renting one for my flowers. Actually the boy brought that up. At which point I had this image of someone microchipping, recording, and inventorying every bee in a hive and it got silly from there.

Oh, that's a good idea. Especially since they've been so scare the last few seasons, and you're on a big plot. Incidentally, if you ever needed ladybugs for some reason, did you know you can buy a shitload of them for cheap? 72,000 will cost you less than $80. Plenty to spare if you had some enemies you wanted to unleash a plague on.

I'm trying to picture 72,000 ladybugs. It's not working.

72,000 ladybugs is basically the plot of a Hitchcock movie and the source of many, many years of therapy for anyone caught in the middle of them.

I had to do three google image searches to get me a picture of ladybugs into the thousands. Even then it just turned up something that looked like a lot of M&Ms.

Oh. 'Thousands of ladybugs' will do it.