Too much fun for words

Last night's excitement: Someone banging intermittently, seemingly on the walls. The structure conducts vibrations so well and my hearing is not what it once was, especially in the lower ranges; a half-hour or so of wandering around and I still couldn't figure out exactly where it was coming from. New neighbours on seven hammering into the walls? My freaky downstairs neighbour doing God-knows-what? I really didn't want to start banging on doors randomly, but I knew I couldn't sleep with it going on. Finally, I ran into the security guard, who'd been summoned by someone on seven who pointed a finger at a guy on eight who's apparently a drum instructor. The guard said he'd been called up around 10 p.m. because he was giving a lesson. (I admit to not noticing that at all.) We knocked, but the guy was, in the guard's terminology, "playing possum". I headed back to bed at that point, but couldn't sleep so studied Chinese for almost an hour.

This morning's excitement: A three-inch cockroach a few feet from my desktop. He must be elderly, since he sure didn't move fast. The fat black ants coming in and out over there I've been able to ignore, but I thought this bore reporting. My boos asked me to capture it for exhibition to the engineer, so I upended a glass over it. This, of course, caused half the department to come by, gawk, and exchange stories of encountres with palmetto bugs, centipedes, and silverfish. Thankfully, the corner of the wall cuts it off from view, but I still know it's there. Hmm, the presence of a menagerie of bugs in that corner couldn't have anything to do with the fact that La Vache eats all her meals at her desk? Yeah, I didn't think so. Insects generate spontaneously from the mud. There's no connexion to food.

I'm looking forward to a calmer afternoon.

Attackbird's Reign of Terror: Day 2

mollpeartree was amused by my use of "nemesis" yesterday, but it's turning out to be frighteningly accurate! On my way to lunch, I saw him standing by the side of the road hectoring incessantly. On my way back, he got me but good, landing on my head and trying to peck at my crown (no, not the eyes yet!). It took twice as long to shake him off this time as last and I was even more tempted, once he'd returned to cawwing from a branch, to fling something at him. While I was eyeing him there, a woman came up and mentioned that she'd been attacked, too; earlier, a co-worker told the horrifying tale of being assaulted hung-over and half-awake while going to fetch his morning coffee. As I was spreading warnings, he struck another long-haired passerby.

When will this end? What will it take? Can scathedobsidian lend us his pellet gun for protection or perhaps currawong, a burly Australian? Or should I avail myself of one of moominmolly's castoff bike helmets?

In other news, the cockroach is still there. monshu asked if we'd been giving it food and water and I told him It's a fucking cockroach! It can live without its HEAD! In fact, someone came up from Preservation and told us that roaches can eat electronics. If it gets hungry, it can just start eating its way out of the cup.

What's your favourite euphemism for "cockroach"? In the brief spate of this morning's discussion, I heard:

• palmetto bug (Florida)
• water bug (American Southwest)
• cucaracha (Nuphy's favourite, from Spanish by way of Southern California)

Others?

In any case, if it's there when I get back, I may have to launch a naming contest. Besides the ants, there's also a serious endemic mouse problem. (There was a huge colony living under the entrance hall until it was redone and the workers thoughtfully drove the rodents deeper into the building.) Add in the Redwing Attackbird and Red the Mangy Fox-Coyote Thing (who hasn't been around in a while) and we've got quite a menagerie on our hands.

Critter update

Well, the building engineer came by to look at our other persistent problems (doorknob always falling off, leak in ceiling, etc.) and sailed right past Mr Roach. If he's still here tomorrow morning, then he's a pet. I wonder what the cleaning staff will make of him, though. Mrs Smith seems to think they won't notice, but I'm imagining some high-pitched dialogue in Spanish or Polish reverberating off these walls in a few hours.

That reminds me: Did I ever tell you about the time my dad and his friends put a fer-de-lance in the fridge?