I just got an email from Expedia updating my travel times for this Christmas. I can't wait to get on the plane for the last leg of the trip; check out what kind of aircraft they have slated for it in the picture above. It should be an interesting trip.
Back in December, I was still deciding if I should keep the sorry excuses for cats that I had acquired. The vet said they would come around eventually, but after a month, they still wouldn't come near me or let me pet them. I thought about returning them, like the vet promised I could if it didn't work out. One Sunday night, I set my cell phone alarm for the next morning as usual. I woke up late Monday morning, discovering that my alarm hadn't gone off at all. That was already a bad start to the week. Then I walked out of my room and discovered that despite their lack of opposable thumbs, the cats had somehow gotten into the kitchen and wreaked havoc. They had opened up a Tupperware full of cookies and dumped it on the floor. They ripped open a loaf of bread, but didn't touch the bread--just the bag. And then I spotted a nice ripe piece of poop sitting on the couch, in the kitchen. I started shouting and chasing them out from behind the couch. Marille, with a little more sense, ran out of the kitchen. But Newton ran across the kitchen, jumped up on the counter, and climbed inside the apartment's hot water heater, wedging himself in between the pipes. And when I tried to get him to come out (only his tail was protruding) he just hissed at me. Then, of course, I couldn't get a shower--because I didn't want to fry or electrocute him while he was holed up in there.
So I just left him in there, went to school, late, bleary-eyed, and unshowered, promising myself that when I got home, I was taking them back to the vet.
But for some reason, I didn't have the heart to do that.
Yes, it was time for the yearly Rube Goldberg project. This year they had to do a much more thorough job measuring heights, masses, and calculating the kinetic and potential energies of each object. Most groups chose "pop a balloon" as their task...here is the most video-friendly machine (most of them happen so fast it's hard to see what's happening on a recording). The books fall, turning on the hair dryer, which sends the TP rolling, knocking over a pillar, which releases a ball, sending a ball rolling, which finally sends a car (with a needle attached) crashing into the balloon. On this second one, you can see proof of the power of prayer (listen for one of the students' supplications right as they start it). It worked! Here is a third group who opted to pour out a can of pop for their task.
After my first attempt at luring the cats out of the kitchen failed, I made a strong cup of coffee, and began my next assault. I left food out by the front door--but I surrounded the dish with a square yard of tinfoil, for a warning signal. I once again turned off all the lights, and this time I sat in my bed, silently--listening. And I tied a string from the kitchen door running over to my bed. Only, I didn't have any string, so I had to use long pieces of folded-over packing tape.
The first time I heard the foil crinkling (after about half an hour), I waited about 30 seconds, hoping that whichever cat it was would be closely followed by their sibling. Then I yanked the string, and slammed the kitchen door shut. Racing into the hall, I discovered--nothing. Somehow they knew something was up and disappeared before I started to shut the door.
After that, they became more cautious. I had to wait about an hour and half, in darkness and silence, until I heard any more noises. I was about to drift off to sleep with the string in my hand when I heard it. This time, after the kitchen door slammed, a streak of fur shot past my bed into the living room. Newton raced all around the room and couldn’t find any good place to hide, so he went back in the hall. He threw himself frantically at the (now-closed) kitchen door, dismayed to find that he was cut off from his perfect hiding place. When I came into the hall and turned on the light, he was so terrified that he began throwing himself at the hall closet door, in a futile attempt to get in there, too. Then he climbed up my coats, and perched himself on the highest coat hook like he was sitting on a tree branch. So I pulled him down and shut him in the WC with some food (I figured he deserved some reward after his trauma). Then I turned off all the lights, had a few more sips of coffee, and began the last round.
This time I waited about 2 hours before I heard the telltale crinkling in the front hall. I pulled the string, slammed the door shut, and she was trapped. She climbed up the coats too, and when she saw me, she jumped literally up to the ceiling and landed by the front door.
My first act, once I got them out of the kitchen, was to tape cardboard all over the underside of the oven so that no cats will be going in there any time soon. Then I shooed them into the living room, firmly closed the kitchen door, and settled down to sleep—after only about 4 hours of waiting.
For a while, I've been hoping to create a parody song for each of the 12 main units we study in physics class. On Saturday, I finished one for "circuits". Today we talked about current, and how it depends on voltage and resistance (Ohm's law). And about Luigi Galvani, who discovered that when he ran a current through a dissected frog, its muscles would still move. You can hear the song I played for them in class today here. No video yet...but you can listen. Apologies to the Plain White T's...
In November, I went to the vet down the street and adopted two kittens. They were found in the country and brought to Vienna, and weren't really used to people (read: feral). The vet said that it would take some patience before they got used to me. Patience was exactly the right word. Or possibly stubbornness.
I named the boy Newton (after Sir Isaac) and his sister Marille (which means "apricot" in Austrian German). I brought them home...and they wouldn't come near me. They would hiss or bolt if I tried to approach them. And after a couple days, Newton completely disappeared. My apartment is not that big, but I couldn't find him anywhere.
That Thursday, after Newton (the yellow one) had been MIA for about 48 hours, I came home and discovered the two of them huddled behind the couch. Being a good, protective brother, Newton immediately bolted into the kitchen. I followed him, a moment too late, and just heard a “thunk” sound toward the stove. I had already searched the kitchen diligently the previous day—there weren’t any good hiding places. So I went over it with a fine tooth comb—behind the couch, beside the fridge, on top of the cabinets over the sink…everywhere. Finally, I got down on my hands and knees. I still couldn’t see any hiding places….but then I felt along the underside of the indentation all the way around the bottom of the cabinets. At just one spot, about two feet wide, there was a 4” gap leading up under the oven. They got in there, and then were able to run around under all the cabinets.
After that (Newton, being a bad example, taught his sister to hide down ther too) I basically didn't see them at all. Whenever I came home, they would be hiding under the cabinets. At night, if I left food in the living room, they came out to eat it. That Friday night I caught a glimpse of Newton staring at me just before he ran back into the kitchen with a full stomach.
Then I decided enough was enough. They couldn’t get used to me if I never saw them. And they were starting to leave little surprises under the cabinets, in a place which could never be cleaned out.
I began a stake-out that Sunday afternoon. I put a chair up on the kitchen counter, next to the stove, and turned off all the lights. I even pretended to lock the front door like I was going out. Then I sat there, up on the counter, deathly still. Nothing happened for about 20 minutes. Then, lo and behold, as I looked down, Marille appeared first, scanning the room for trouble. Her cowardly brother showed his head after she was about 3 feet away from the oven. Then she looked up, and I knew I was sunk. Newton disappeared back under the oven and she followed quickly.
They foolishly thought they had won. But stay tuned to hear about how I got them out.
