I live in the basement of my fraternity's building in a 1 bedroom studio. While I value the privacy this provides me, it does come with a few surprising downsides.
One of the most frequent consequences of basement living is that my apartment attracts smells from all the other apartments in the building. I am not sure why smells sink to the bottom of the building, but they seem to converge in my living room on a daily basis. I guess for the same reasons that heat rises, smells must sink.
What surprises me the most is the clarity of the smells that appear. Typically the smells are from something being cooked. The scent is so strong and so succinct it's as if the meal is being prepared right in my own kitchen. I can usually name not only the main dish being prepared (typically some delicious smelling meat), but even the side dishes and various seasonings involved. And, living in a building of 12 different apartments filled with people living various time schedules, there are smells wafting in at all hours of the day. It's like a train station around here.
As you can imagine, this creates quite a bit of confusion for my body. Imagine living in a room that smells like 20 different delicious meals throughout the day. Then imagine going to your kitchen and finding only Pb and J's and Ramen to greet you. Sadly, neither my culinary skills nor my budget can match those of my neighbors, and I'm forced to simply live vicariously through their dinners with the help of my nose and our building's faulty ventilation system.
13.1.10
Cat Scratch Fever
My cat is bored. I think he's developed cabin fever because of the cold weather. Usually he spends a third of the day outside, doing lord knows what. But since the snow started falling he's been confining himself indoors, and I think it's taking its toll. He just walks around the apt, being crabby and meowing. He sits by the edge of the couch and stares up at me expectantly, as if it's suddenly my job to keep him entertained.
I thought the whole allure of having a cat was they would keep themselves busy. Unlike dogs, who crave and require attention, (and permission to use the bathroom) cats seem to have their own agenda most of the time. Unless the food bowl is empty or the litter box runeth over, my cat doesn't find much time to hang out with me. He'll usually end up in my bed, but I get the feeling that has more to do with the softness of the blankets than the pleasure of my company.
So I've been trying to keep his spirits up: I brought out a scratching pad full of catnip. I let him get into the cabinets he thinks will be interesting, but then quickly grows bored once he views the contents. I point out things around the apartment he might not have smelled yet; "How about that book?" I ask, "Have you smelled that book yet? I bet it smells interesting."
Overall, this experience has taught me 2 things. One, my apartment is somehow big enough for me, but not big enough for my cat. I'd find that fact depressing if I wasn't so impressed. Secondly, I have completely lost my ability to "play". I can't figure out how to keep a cat interested in a game of tug of war, or catch the string. Even with the aid of expensive cat toys, his interest wanes after the first couple of minutes. It's the same reason I'm terrible around children. My brain can't work on their level, making an adventure out of Barbies and GI Joes. It must be one of those "Use it or Lose it" skills that just didn't progress past middle school.
I don't feel too sorry for my cat though. He's 7 years old, you'd think he would have developed a sense of seasons by now.
I thought the whole allure of having a cat was they would keep themselves busy. Unlike dogs, who crave and require attention, (and permission to use the bathroom) cats seem to have their own agenda most of the time. Unless the food bowl is empty or the litter box runeth over, my cat doesn't find much time to hang out with me. He'll usually end up in my bed, but I get the feeling that has more to do with the softness of the blankets than the pleasure of my company.
So I've been trying to keep his spirits up: I brought out a scratching pad full of catnip. I let him get into the cabinets he thinks will be interesting, but then quickly grows bored once he views the contents. I point out things around the apartment he might not have smelled yet; "How about that book?" I ask, "Have you smelled that book yet? I bet it smells interesting."
Overall, this experience has taught me 2 things. One, my apartment is somehow big enough for me, but not big enough for my cat. I'd find that fact depressing if I wasn't so impressed. Secondly, I have completely lost my ability to "play". I can't figure out how to keep a cat interested in a game of tug of war, or catch the string. Even with the aid of expensive cat toys, his interest wanes after the first couple of minutes. It's the same reason I'm terrible around children. My brain can't work on their level, making an adventure out of Barbies and GI Joes. It must be one of those "Use it or Lose it" skills that just didn't progress past middle school.
I don't feel too sorry for my cat though. He's 7 years old, you'd think he would have developed a sense of seasons by now.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
