It would appear that a darkish cloud has parked itself over my head. I won’t make it more dramatic than that because, comparatively, it’s more of a Spring shower.
Grant went out this morning for a brief shopping trip.
90 seconds later he was back, which suggested all was not well. It is significant that it was raining.
The windshield wipers wouldn’t work.
Just as well it was raining, it turns out, as it drew our attention to a serious problem.
After searching online for potential causes, Grant thought it was a blown fuse and we decided he should take the car to the dealer in Vermont.
Sometime later, my phone rang with Grant’s cheery little tune. It was not good news, as I could tell from background conversation concerning “loaner cars”.
“Are you there?” Grant finally came on the line sounding a tad stressed. “Four and a half thousand dollars!” he exclaimed.
A whole re-wiring job because…..rodents.
The other tiny little problem being that Grant was now in Vermont without transportation, though given the size of the job, it seems the maintenance department put a little effort into locating one:
“Hey Joe! We’re going to use your car for a few days!”
(The sales people all drive company cars.)
Given that Grant’s day had gone a bit sideways, I’d already decided it might not be wise, when he returns, to moan about my latest computer woes.
It’s a struggle is all I will say about that.
It says, in my new PC, that this is a picture of last night.
It’s not. That was the night before, but we are making do at the moment….
Last night, Lucy seemed already to have forgotten her truce with Toby.
Or had never expected to honour it, more like.
When finally I flopped into bed with my book, Madame fiercely patrolled the sides, rebuffing any other cat seeking to climb aboard.
But when I put the light out not long after, she adjourned to the top of “her” tree, content that she had put everyone in their place and that they would remain there.
“I’ll go sleep on the sofa. I know when I’m not wanted.”
During the night I gave him a tickle: “Sorry, Toby.”
“S’alright.” he groused, “She cats!”
But in the morning he chased Willow, just to register his grievance.
For a nano-second I contemplated the idea of nominating a “cat du jour” or “du nuit”, more appropriately.
Misbehaviour to result in overnight duty in the garage.
It would be impossible to administer but in any case it simply doesn’t work.
Cats are not a mouse-deterrent.
The garage of my previous house was adjacent to the foster-suite and Grant used to leave the door open for the cats to run around.
Those mice thumbed their tiny noses at us.
Once, I opened my glove compartment and found myself face-to-face with a somewhat startled mouse.
“Oh!” I said, “hello!” I shut it back in and drove it home.
At that house it wasn’t just mice, either, though as far as I know the larger rodents remained outdoors.
The residents of the foster suites thought it was brilliant, having such active toys for them to play with.
It didn’t deter the mice in the least.
Various electronic devices are supposed to discourage mice. None I ever tried did.
Exterminators? The very name makes me shudder.
Not so long ago, Grant rescued a mother mouse and her babies, taking them back to the garage where we ensured water was always available.
Rodent damage is such a common thing these days, insurance companies actually cover it. To what extent remains to be seen but I would not even have thought about it. The service advisor mentioned it to Grant and told him how to go about applying for it.
I joked that it always helps to be a big, tall guy when getting a car serviced which is very sexist, I know.
Truthfully, though, I have generally been lucky when seeking help of any sort.
With notable exceptions.
A car-rental agency in Calgary put me off ever renting from that company again.
And most government officials don’t have a sense of humour.
Or if they do, I didn’t notice.