I got up too early and went up to Maggie's. She lived across from Boulder High, in a weird little enclave right beside Boulder Creek, -- weird, because you can't get there directly as it's all one-way streets pointing the wrong way. You have to sneak in a couple blocks in advance. We loaded like crazy, got everything into the trailer or the two Subarus, save two boxes. Maggie felt like she was incredibly fuzzy and confused, and needed coffee, and we thought we needed hex keys to take apart the futon so we went over to McGuckin's, where we had a huge intense discussion with the four hippies who ran the key-duplication machine (four, seriously) about 'rock papers scissors dynamite' vs. 'rock paper scissors bomb'. The key they gave Maggie was leopard-print and sticky, so they washed it in Goof-Off, and then it was stinky instead. We bought a big ol' Bondhus metric hex set and started off home. There was a charming, very pale young lady on the sidewalk, wearing an electric blue blouse/skirt thing that stopped about a foot above her knees: if she stood very still, her butt didn't show. Well, she was running, as it happened, and wasn't wearing panties, as it happened. Maggie began yelling, something like "dammit, dammit, there should be a law! It's not fair that there are hot chicks wearing short skirts running down the street when someone replaced my brain with a cupcake and I can't think and today I NEED TO BE ABLE TO THINK and it's NOT FAIR! ARRRRRGH..." and we drove home and finished loading. The cats fit in the cat boxes.
We drove down to the new place and loaded everything into the house. Cassandra kitty got stashed in the bathroom, a small room with two doors and one closed window and nothing else of note, and we went out for another load and Dyson kitty. When we came back there was no sign of Cassandra. Doors closed, window closed, toilet lid closed. Nothing. So we stashed Dyson in there and went looking for Cass, poked hither, poked yon, nothing, and in confusion we went back to see if maybe possibly there was a spot to hide.
Dyson was gone.
It was the bathroom of vanishing cats.
Turns out they were hiding under the sink, in a space that couldn't've been more than 3" high, with a slit thinner than that for egress. I had no idea a cat could fit through a hole that thin. Desperation is an amazing thing.
Finished moving. I pulled out of her driveway and reverse-jackknifed the trailer, leaving another ding in the side of my beat-up car.
As I was driving along Thirteenth, I saw a dozen guys playing foot-down on a basketball court just before Washington. They all had chopped-bar fixies, mostly with matching anodized rims.
Nikki rebuilt the whole back yard this AM. I came home, we admired each other's work, and went to the Lakewood library, loaded up.
I read all of Megatokyo #1 and am working through a book on tile technique.
Out for a quick snack at some frightening diner in Broomfield.
It was hot yesterday, but snowing now. Fie.