We got one of our windows shot out yesterday. As many of you know, I live in a warehouse that fronts a major street. The windows are typical industrial warehouse windows, a bank of panes perhaps one foot by two feet in diameter, about eight panes high and 12 panes across.
Yesterday a little before six o'clock in the evening, there was a large bang, the sound of an impact, like something hitting the brick of the building, followed by another loud bang and the crystalline cries of shattering glass. Cats running, baby screaming, mayhem ensues. I got the baby in the Pack-n-Play, made sure the cats suffered no ancillary damage and called the building manager.
Mojo built a large, 16 foot long, five foot high wooden deck in front of the windows to act as a storage space. I had to climb atop this to ascertain which pane had been shot out and get it covered over as quickly as possible with cardboard, before a cat tried to escape. I also gave a cursory and almost impossible swipe at cleaning up the broken glass. I got most of it that could end up in the bottom of little cat feet.
No sign of the projectile. It was probably a bb gun or an air rifle that did the damage.
The glass was replaced today. I now have one clean pane of glass. If I suffered from OCD rather than ADD, I'd be up there right now, attempting to clean all the rest to match. I've got more important things to do.
Today, Mojo is emptying out his storage unit in the South Bay and packing it all up here, including his bed. His California King-sized bed. With the four posts. I am beside myself with joy. Trying to fit a 6'2" man in a double bed is bad enough, but add a woman a foot shorter, two cats and a squirmy toddler to the mix and you have a recipe for advanced sleep deprivation. I just hope he knows where the bedding is.
I have great hopes of getting the Bit used to sleeping on her own in a crib so that I can have a regular sex life again. It's pretty impossible right now, anyway, with Monkey Boi here for the summer. Warehouse living: one big room, sleeping loft, 26' ceilings, strange acoustics=sex not a good idea with a 12 year old boy downstairs who will be able to hear EVERYTHING.
I have begun having fantasies of a real house. With interior doors. And closets. Cupboards, even! Wooden floors. Linoleum in the kitchen. Bliss. Ever tried mopping cement? I don't recommend it.