What went before: Yesterday went from bad to worse, and I took a couple hours out in the afternoon to sip hot chocolate and stare out the window, then watch Rook play with his robot mouse. This toy had terrified him as a baby kitten, but yesterday, he deliberately knocked it off the shelf where it has been rusticating for months, and tried kicking it up and down the hall, so I turned it on and let it run until the charge failed. He had a great time with it, and knew immediately to pick it up by its tail and get it into a open run space when it got (as it frequently does) stuck in a corner.
Wednesday. Sunny and cold.
Breakfast was hummus, naan, apple sauce. Something will leap out of the fridge for lunch, I’m sure.
First thing, I need to talk to somebody about a Confusion of Rights, to which I hope they have a definitive answer. Files under Why Writers Drink.
After my phone call, and hopefully armed with Answers, I need to write a letter. Then, I will be going over the damned tax packet *again* and if all looks good will be delivering it to the accountant’s office, and from there to the grocery to take on food and wine.
I got up early (after 7.30 hours of sleep; someone was concerned that I was not getting enough rest with all these early hours. The fact is that getting up early begets going to bed early, and I, a lifelong Night Person, am now apparently a Day Person, something I’m not particularly happy about, but here we are.), and have already written one letter, so progress is progressing.
Way back when the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory was still in its Country Location, I discovered that there’s a Life Limit on how much coffee one person can imbibe, and, what with years of mainlining the stuff, I had hit that limit. That was when I switched to tea, and Steve, after watching in Stark Terror every time I poured boiling water from a saucepan into a mug (and pretty often over the countertop, too), bought me an OXO Stainless Steel Whistling Tea Kettle with a Geniune Cork Covered Handle.
I love the OXO tea kettle, but it, like me, is starting to show its age, and I thought to get another (because, honest, if me pouring boiling water out of saucepan into a mug was scary ten years ago, it’s only gotten worse. Even *I* get short of breath when I do it.). OXO of course, does not make this tea kettle any more, and I wound up with a Mr. Coffee Whistling Tea Kettle, and may I just say? What a piece of junque. I mean, yes, I’m spoiled; we’ve discussed this, and Steve always bought The Best, whether we could afford it or not — but Mr. Coffee has not achieved a 10 year tea kettle.
On the other hand, given the on-gong axe-work against society and human beings, 10 years may not be something I have to worry about.
Below, another photo from last night — you can see that Tali and Firefly have Made An Accommodation — Firefly on *her* side against my hip, and Tali on *her* side, from hip to knee.
It was all very comfortable.
What makes you comfortable, lately?
Today’s title brought to you by Ray Wylie Hubbard, and there’s a story that goes with that. I remembered the line about the night people’s job being to take the day people’s money, but not the title of the song. I asked the internet, which served me up “Rabbit” which was not the song I’d been thinking of, but which I like on its own terms. A little more digging got me the song I was after, “Nighttime.”
Many cat pictures below. I note that Tali and Firefly are working out the evening reading positions.
