Fear the Crab

I write from Nat & Big Mark’s house. I am housesitting, and by association I am also dogsitting, because the dog came with the house. Maile has been here for the past two days, whilst I have only been here one.

One of the first things I did when I got here was establish my territory. That meant turning on Nat’s computer and putting my name into her Minesweeper. Considering how no one in this house seems to play Minesweeper, my name(s) have a good chance of lasting for a long time.

The second thing I did was figure out where the bathroom was. The house is in a state of remodeling, which means that floorspace is a premium, which means that normal walkways are now filled with stooff. And it’s hard to tell what’s been temporarily placed there, or just what is actually supposed to be there. Not only did I have to figure out where the bathroom was, but I also had to figure out where the dog’s bathroom was, and I really wanted to avoid that area.

Still, after a while I couldn’t shake the Cheesy withdrawals. I tried the client that runs via cheesymud.com, but that kept disconnecting after 15 minutes. I tried the telnet client, but having no local echo gets tiring fast. What to do? I couldn’t take it, I HAD to get onto Cheesy! So I brought out my laptop, disconnected the cable from Nat’s computer and slammed in the sweet sweet connective delights.

Turned out nobody else was on.

I ate the pizza for dinner, thanks to Galbraith. It was a good option because there’s not much of a stove left, and Maile and I weren’t in the mood for anything microwaved. We also didn’t want to leave the house alone for long by eating out, especially with nothing but a plywood board for a door. Actually, that’s not entirely true, but my paranoid tendencies sometimes kick in.

I have no idea where I’m going to sleep. That should have been the third thing I did. Meanwhile, I’ll take pride in using the three common font formatting tags in this post.