Monday, March 22, 2010

Gallimaufry

How do cats always know where to find you? Both of mine were sleeping peacefully on the mezzanine just now, and didn't twitch a whisker as I got out of my chair. I went upstairs to my bedroom, and two minutes later, they both appeared, leapt onto the bed with me and are now sleeping again. I think they'd like it if I were in traction for a couple of months, just so they could stop following me around the house all day and night.

Ho hum. I've been starting and scrapping posts for two weeks because most of them are like this one - boring observations about pets, or shopping, or how I got the shower grout really clean with baking soda and a toothbrush. The ones that aren't mostly start out all right, but end up being too personal to put out there on teh intarwebz, which sadly is not my private confession box, no matter how much I'd like it to be.

Moving on, this evening G and I visited the local police station with her Girl Scout troop. Here are a few things that 9- to 11-year-old girls are interested in knowing during a police-station tour:

* Will we get to try handcuffs on? (No.)
* Will we see the jail part? (No.)
* Can we go inside a cell? (No.)
* Are they gonna taser someone? (No.)
* Have you got a shooting range here? (Yes.)
* Can we practice shooting? (NO.)
* Is this juvie? (No.)

What they did get to do was visit one of the police briefing rooms, where a nice young officer talked to them about drinking and driving, had them do some of the standard roadside tests, and showed them how the breathalyzer works. They also saw the watch commander's post and the juvenile holding cell (there was a teenage boy getting interrogated in there the first time we passed by - I'm sure he enjoyed being stared at by a gang of younger girls), viewed the records area, and got color-changing pencils with the [name of city] Police Department logo.

I found the tour quite interesting, but thought it must be incredibly depressing to work there. Everything was painted a sort of industrial paste color and lit with harsh fluorescent overhead lights, and the nameplates and paneling and other fitments had all clearly been there for as long as I've been alive. I can see why they don't bother making the holding cells nice for the perps, but I wouldn't mind a few of my tax dollars going to spruce things up for the officers and support staff. It's worse than the DMV.

1 comment:

tomeoftheunknownblogger said...

Baking soda and toothbrush, eh?

I found a "recipe" via the internet for getting white grout white again. (White being the absence of any biological growth, like, um, mildew.):

Put bleach into a spray bottle, hold up paper towels against the tile and wet it down with the bleach. Leave the paper towel until nearly dry and then remove. You can keep re-wetting the paper towel with bleach if it's not getting white yet.

Elbow grease factor? Low. Very low.
Toxic fume exposure? Um, high. Had to open all the windows for a day or two, even after rinsing as much bleach off as I could, to get the bleach (chlorine) smell out.

But, the grout has never been whiter (except when it was freshly installed).

Sounds like those police dudes (or dudettes) were just buzzkills. No 'cuffs? No cell time? Bummer.