My cellphone rings. It is SH. Who is upstairs. In the same house. Where I am.
I told you Shirley isn't bothered by the vacuum cleaner. It was running when I took this picture. She isn't bothered by the big vacuum cleaner we keep downstairs for the basement carpet, either. Laverne, however, was completely spooked by the space heater and hissed at it when I pulled it from the bedroom to the kitchen this morning.
Me: Why are you calling me?
SH: Laverne keeps farting. We need to ask the vet about this.
Me: No, I mean why are you calling me instead of coming downstairs to talk to me?
SH: Oh. Well, Laverne is sitting in my lap and I didn't want to disturb her.
Shirley is a technocat. Ha. I think we are just going to have to surrender on certain things. We might be able to train them not to climb on the table or the kitchen counters when we are watching, but they are going to do it otherwise. The best thing to do is not to leave things out that they might want to eat (although they have shown a remarkable lack of interest in bacon and tuna -- what is wrong with these animals?) or might get broken.
PS We usually just email each other from floor to floor. Although I call him when I am in the basement because yes, I am that lazy. And who can remember how all those remotes work? Me? Not an engineer. English major here.