Cat on a Hot White Roof

So today my role as Bermudian Cat Sitter begins in earnest. My friend is off to Florida, and it’s all on me. I’ve been giving the one cat, Jack Frost, his pills in a trial fashion (and he now hates me and clawed me good last night), and been warned that the other male, Blueberry, will do everything in his power to escape, get on the roof, and go down the chimney (which would be convenient if he survived it, as the chimney empties out into the upstairs bedroom, but I imagine I’m oversimplifying things as my friend looked at me horrified when I suggested as much.)

Kitty on a Dirty Limestone Roof.

At any rate, in preparation, I went out the bathroom window last night and staked out the roof.

I’m truly in no mood to be cat wrangling from 20 feet in the air, but I guess I’ll do what I have to do in the performance of my duty. That or I’ll try to lure him down the chimney with some Fancy Feast. It probably depends on my mood…

Speaking of my mood, I am a bit out of it and slightly traumatized. I got up this morning at 5:30am (having gone to sleep at 1:30am. Ouch.), rode to the airport with my friend, and then drove her car back to her house. In Bermuda, driving without a Bermudian license is not only frowned upon, it is wildly illegal and punishable with a huge fine. I’ve been given no less than three lectures on a) the import of not getting caught and b) what, exactly, to say if I’m caught. In other words, she put the scare on me.

And it worked.

That’s probably why – when I realized I’d screwed up and driven into the city of Hamilton instead of around it, and the gas gauge was on E, and I was probably f*cked – that my heart ripped out of my chest, catapulted itself out my throat, and took off in the general direction of the giant cruise ships. Worse, I almost immediately recognized the all-too-familiar-and-wildly-terrifying sound of police sirens. That was roughly the same moment I realized all the mirrors were adjusted wrong because she’s quite a bit shorter than me, and I had no idea where the sirens were coming from. And then the hallucinations and tremors set in.

In the end, it turns out the sirens had nothing to do with me.

Self-photo during my beach-to-beach hike yesterday. There are nine beaches - each one most breathtaking and postcard-ish and empty than the last - connected by trails just a few minutes' walk from the house. Amazing!

And, as I’d watched my friend get lost dozens of times in the exact same manner when I was here last November , I remembered how to get out of town post-haste. Once out of Hamilton, but still nearly out of gas, I tapped into my Spidey sense and almost immediately and semi-miraculously got myself onto the correct road – and all while driving on the left! (Diminish the accomplishment if you must, but it’s s extra-challenging while panicking.) Soon, I was recognizing things and reasonably certain that I was headed back to Southhampton and even did a big grocery store run before the ordeal was over. I didn’t fill the gas tank. I figured I’d save that harrowing adventure for another day – a little something to look forward to.

Lastly, in the interest of your edification and education, let’s talk about the white roof.  This won’t change your life, but it is mildly interesting: as it so happens, Bermuda does not have a single source of fresh water. It’s all rain, baby.

And the limestone roof is how they collect it. By law, every home must collect 80 percent of the water that falls on its roof and store it in a cistern beneath the house. And supposedly “there’s no acid rain here” and it’s good, clean, water and they drink it as it falls from the sky and despite the fact that the roof looked a little dirty to me.

However, at the moment – despite a wet and brutal winter – the cistern at my friend’s place has run dry and we’re using an insipid, chlorinated substitute that’s been delivered, and which I can only assume has been collected at some huge facility owned by an enterprising individual who had the good sense to stock up during a wetter time, which – thankfully for my trip – now is not. And despite the fact that every day Weather.com reports ‘scattered t-showers,’ I have only heard a little bit of rain a few nights ago…which is fine by me.  I don’t like rain on my paradisiacal beaches, and I can take some chlorine in my water. I used to be a lifeguard. I’ve ingested worse.

Tags: As much as he's so cheap and greedy he constantly talks about how he's saving up all this money and is going to buy a Harley and a condo in Cayman. User., bermuda travel, Bermudian white roofs, Cat sitting, Cat sitting in Bermuda, Dating douchebags., Did I mention the HBF is 40 years old? Grow up dude., driving in Bermuda, driving on the left, Driving on the wrong side of the road, Every time she would leave for work he would talk shit about her., Every time she'd try to engage him in conversation at dinner last night he'd glare at her like he hated her., Getting around in Bermuda, He also said she can't cook and is a terrible housekeeper. This from a man who truly CANNOT cook - and freaked out when she asked him to grill chicken. In the end I did it - and is a filthy pig., He also spent the whole time pointing out whenever someone checked me out - or recounting the story at length to my friend later. Super awkward., He totally ruined that dinner last night and then didn't even thank her for paying his tab. I paid my own., He's so hateful. Thank god they're gone., his morning the HBF was a major bitch because he didn't like being up at 6am. Which one of us did??? Deal with it and shut up. Jerk., I drove in England. I can handle this., I hate they way he treats her. It's like he thinks he's superior or something., I have another friend who's married to a total dick and I can never travel with her as a result., I hope he does leave her. She can do so much better., I think I'm having some mini-PTSD from both the HBF and the drive this morning., I'd much rather be in a car than on a moped when the shit goes down., I'm still reeling from the horror that is the HBF., I'm still ruminating on the travel book angle Scott. I will get back to you within 24-48. Swear., I've dated some jerks but NOTHING like this shit head., I've never met such a self-important and ungrateful mooch in my life., In the course of five days he called her an obese alcoholic who can't cook and is a filthy pig. I was truly shocked and tried to defend her...to no avail., Last night at dinner I guess I pissed him off when I agreed that "he can be a real dick if he wants to be" so he never spoke to or acknowledged me again - not even when I said bye at the airport. Fine, Life, me me me, My friend is dating an asshole., My friend spends so much time defending the HBF to me and it's really sad. I hope they break up and she finds someone who's not such a gigantic dickhead., My friend's car drives like it's permanently stuck in second gear., Not only is the friend gone but so is the horrific boyfriend, Now I can finally write without video games in the background 24/7., The car I'm driving is a total beater...which is a good thing., The horrific boyfriend (HBF moving forward) is such an asshole., The other day he went on this verbal bender about how he can't ask her to pay for anything the next time they go on vacation. I guess he was pissed about buying his own ticket to Florida., They won't let you drive here but they will let you on a moped. Ridiculous., This is all the bitching I'm going to do about the HBF. I could write ten posts but I wouldn't want her to see it and feel bad., This is it for me and Bermuda. I'll meet her somewhere but next time I might just knife the HBF., Tourists aren't allowed to drive in Bermuda, Tourists can't drive in Bermuda, Travel, When I was here last time the HBF said he'd leave her in the spring - as in four months ago - if she didn't lose weight. Guess it's too hard to give up the free ride she gives him?, Whenever my friend is at work the HBF would complain to me about how she was too fat and if she didn't lose weight by November he was leaving her., White roofs

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