Yesterday’s sloth, or whatever you want to call it could be attributed to any or all of a number of things:
Covid vaccine, change of meds, over extending the mobile bike routine or even just 15 minutes of patio sweeping.
Whatever it was, I could not haul my butt out of bed until noon.
It would have had some profit, if I’d been able to sleep.
Alas, it was a morning for the latest of Grant’s take-em-in and trade-em-up routines. As this involves gymnasium equipment consisting of large metal bits, it was just a bit noisy.
Then the cats started kicking off.
So in the end, I gave up.
Having persuaded me to eat a cold baked potato (2 days old), Grant went off to collect his latest intake, leaving me and my bleary brain cells, no longer ready to sleep, but also refusing to go anywhere cheerful. Back to my “fantasies”….
Unwilling to fall to the bottom of that pit, I tore myself away from writing and went to have a bath, emerging just in time to “hold Penny”, as Grant came clanging back through the door with another load of stuff.
How is it that a 73-year old woman can get through a door un-aided, both hands full with a half dozen items, but a 53-year old male can’t make it with one? At least not without allowing several cats to flee.
Sometimes I do wonder if we didn’t come from different parts of the Universe. Males and females, I mean.
Must not complain. Life here would be hard now without help.
It just makes me very anxious when the cats go outside.
Today, our brilliant morning didn’t last long and you’ll never guess…
Before long, it was snowing.
Not that it will amount to much, but it shows how unpredictable March can be in these parts.
Returning to my anxiety over the cats being out:
It was all very well when we were hemmed in by piles of snow and they didn’t care to roam. Now there is no restraint.
Grant grew up on a farm where animals came and went at will. He feels that our cats are deprived of their freedom.
But he was the first to complain when next door’s cat killed birds on my property.
Which is what Sasha was thinking about when she took off with purpose up the driveway.
“Keep an eye on her”, I’m told, as if I am fit to chase a determined feline as she disappears into the bushes!
I can retort that I “will not be responsible”, but I would be devastated if anything happened to any of the cats.
On the other hand….
Lily just jumped on my desk, stuck her tail in my fresh cup of tea and splattered it all over me and over the keyboard.
And now, it seems, she has decided to resume the habit she had 2 years ago, of trying to push me off my chair, because that is where she wants to sit.
Now she’s poking me and she won’t give up till I find another chair and relinquish the hot pad.
Lily’s become very fickle. She had abandoned me for Grant but now she’s remembered that she likes my desk because often I write with a gel pen and there’s nothing she likes more than licking the writing. She just got a great report from her blood work, so apparently it hasn’t done her any harm.
But if I don’t catch her in time, she’s quite capable of licking off the script in its entirety, which can be quite inconvenient if it’s something I needed to remember.
The chair I previously turned over to Lily.
It sits not four feet away from where I now am, but she no longer wants it. No heating pad.
However, Grant just stuck his head round the corner and off she rushed.
Did I say she was fickle?
She is the senior cat.
Mustn’t forget about that.
Meanwhile I have more to be grateful for than skyscapes, naughty cats and noisy housemates:
At last, after a long wait, I got my the new lenses for my glasses and the World is in focus once again.
I guess that’s a good thing?