cleaning

this idiot cat

Last night I got back to the borrowed flat and found this idiot cat that used to live in said flat and thinks it still does waiting for me on the borrowed bed where I’m sleeping; later, retiring, I found that said cat had peed on said bed, like, with authority, and volume.
I spent much of the night not sleeping but disassembling and washing, and when I got up to resume that work this morning, the same cat was waiting for me in the living room in spite of having been thrown thoroughly out.
Now I have posted signs on all the points of feline ingress I can divine reading MIKE IF YOU COME IN HERE AGAIN I WILL DROWN YOU and the same again, just in case, in German.

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Barcelona is trying

I said,

I like it here.

Barcelona is trying.

but not too hard.

I talked with a local — actually a native of Venezuela but I guess she’s been here for a while — who said very vehemently otherwise.

said it with clarity, and texture, and substance.

but still.

I just watched a street sweeper spend several minutes going after a leaf.

I think it might be hotter than what you favor.

but I also think you’d like the way the food and drink are good without making a Thing about it.

there’s a G&T obsession — did you know this already? — and pretty much every dive offers vermut de la casa…which I guess means house-made vermouth.

I had such terrible coffee all throughout France, and it took me getting to Spain to even realize, consider my perspective legitimate, give it voice.

I said this to la patrona at the Basque B&B where I worked for a while

and she was like, “Well, yeah.”

“French coffee sucks.”

“Everyone knows that.”

(except she said it in Spanish.)

here, I’ve figured out how to order what I want, and it’s so consistently excellent and so cheap, and then I sit and watch the old hombres have wine and snails for breakfast.

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