The cats are gone. My aunt moved out and she took her cats with her yesterday. The cats were pretty much the whole reason she moved out, too, as my grandmother's been getting increasingly paranoid about them. She hired a couple people on Saturday to super-vacuum and turn over cushions and basically eradicate the slightest possibility of cat hair anywhere. I still remember a creepy moment a couple weeks ago when she had me run a finger along a skirting board on the bathroom wall and told me to look at my finger--"See all the cat hair?!" and of course there was nothing but a bit of dust. This house is white walls and white carpets and it'll never be sterile enough for her, yet in a Travis Bickle-like contradiction, my grandmother's very sloppy, and the kitchen floor's perpetually littered with crumbs and her unfinished meals are usually scattered about the house along with tossed papers and pieces of furniture. One sensed the real problem she had with the cats was territorial--the cats learned to fear her as my grandmother would hiss whenever she saw them.
The house feels distinctly lifeless without them. I keep thinking I'll see them in their usual spots, keep thinking I'll see Lucky when I leave my room, looking up at me with his wide-eyed expectant stare. I talked to my aunt at the Barnes and Noble last night, and she told me the cats were still terrified of their new surroundings. I hope Victoria doesn't stop eating again, though I'm less worried about Lucky who likes to eat when he's nervous. My aunt says she'll pay me to drop by on weekdays to take care of them, but it won't be the same as having Lucky sit next to me while watching movies or sleeping with Victoria curled up against my stomach.
I did pick up the new special edition of the Francis Ford Coppola's Dracula. I hadn't even known about it before I saw it in the store yesterday. I had an unexpected geekgasm then and there; thirty minutes of deleted scenes, director's commentary, a higher definition image, improved sound . . . it's about damned time. The old disk was surprisingly decent in terms of audio and visual for such an old release, but this beautiful movie deserves the works. I would have watched it last night if I wasn't so exhausted.
I had to get up early on Saturday because the people my grandmother had hired to exercise the cat aura from the house were making a lot of noise. But on Sunday, I woke up at around 10:30 and for no apparent reason couldn't go back to sleep. There was a Harkonnen gladiatorial tournament being held in the Dune sim and I hadn't really planned on attending since it took place right in the middle of my sleeping time. But I was so restless, I automatically popped in before breakfast and coffee--I wasn't even dressed yet. I somehow made it to the finals, giving the eventual winner, Kafka Moody, a run for her money, almost defeating her despite the fact that she was wielding two katanas and ninja moves, while I had only a single generic arming sword. It was fun.
My aunt just called to say the cats had finally settled into their new surroundings. That was good to hear . . .