I had a record breakingly bad day at work yesterday. So bad, my supervisor told me to go home and drink a glass of wine (at 3pm). I could regale you with the details, but they were so trivial and minor and specifically HR related that no one would understand but G, and she better not be reading this but STUDYING FOR THE BAR!
Needless to say, I went home, took care of some personal stuff, drank some wine (it was a direct order) and chilled out. Much better place today.
I am cat sitting. And she is a-freaking-dorable. She has been zero trouble (knock on wood) so far. She sniffed and bit and chomped on one of our plants when she first got there, but I flicked her jaw and she hasn’t touched them again. She disappears for a while and then comes back and rams her face into your hands or face, because obviously it is time to pay attention to her. She sleeps with us most nights. She didn’t used to sleep at night, and I don’t know what she does all day, but I wake up every morning with her snuggled up by my pillow or in the crook of my legs. She and Shoobs are getting along swimmingly as well.
And I am reminded of her nickname from when we used to live together many years ago. Spastacat. Last night, for example, she was quietly playing downstairs. Then suddenly, without warning, back arched claws spread, she ran up the stairs. Once at the top, her back flattened out, he tail shrunk back down to regular size, she licked her foot, and waltzed right into the bedroom. She emerged about 20 minutes later, stretched out long on the ground in front of us, caught site of Shelby and did a little butt wiggle before hopping on the chair on the opposite side of the room.
I realize that most of this is probably boring, but she is freaking cute and we are digging the company. I may have lost the “our house is too little for pets” argument. Anyone have a dog that needs dog-sat? (Not really. But thanks.)