Youngling is at school taking her ACT test, Mama Kitty is still attempting to cough up a lung or two, and OMG a chocolate chip cookie was probably not good idea for breakfast. You know the "give a mouse a cookie" syndrome? Well it works for Mama Kitties too. Except with coffee. Or cocoa, or Russian tea, but the problem is that Mama Kitty wants to go back to sleep, not get up and go make any of the above.
Mama Kitty got about six hours of sleep last night which is oh, at least four hours less than she needs in a single night. Not including naps of course. Did I mention it's cold? Reaaaally cold? Sitting here rocking the knit scarf wrapped around my neck, but the back door is open. Why? Because there are kitten cats that like to go in and out. And in and out. And in and out. And in and out.
Sigh. Will I never learn? Probably not. Waiting for Juliet to reappear and then it's nap time! Why they want to be outside when it's perfectly warm in here is beyond me, but hey, that's the ONE thing I can't commiserate with them over. Sleeping, yes. Being petted yes. Being spoiled, yep. Leaving a nice warm house to go hunt various small critters in the backyard. Nope. Granted the door is only open a little bit, but the cow slippers aren't really doing their job to keep the toesies warm since even a little bit equates to arctic breezes caressing them.
Arctic is pretty in pictures. Not in cow slippers.
Oh wherefore art thou Juliet?!?!?! Come in where it's warm and toasty and we can snuggle in the blankets and I'll rub your belly!
Okay, it's official, I'm insane. I'm leaving without her. In a minute.
I told you guys my inspection sticker on my truck was expired right? Well I took an empty cool whip bowl and filled it with warm water and went outside and filled it up with dirt. Yep. Made mud. Splashed it all over my truck, making sure to cover up the bright yellow sticker that proudly screams 11 / 10 and that I'm a horrible procrastinator all at once. I have to hand it to hubs, it was his idea, but a good one.
I passed probably 12,000 police officers the first day and not one of them pulled me. BUT....that night I went to bed and in the midst of a really strange dream I dreamed that Juliet got hit by a police car. My daughter of course, the Freudian genius that she is says I'm extrapolating or something. That Juliet isn't going to be hit by a police car, but hey, now I'm skittish. It probably wasn't 12,000 either, but it felt like it. The conscience is a powerful thing, and guilt seems to be one of it's specialties.
So to make a long story, well shorter since it's already been long, that's why I'm sitting her freezing my toesies off waiting for Juliet to reappear. See? It's not crazy at all! Right?
Gonna try the front door now, and then I swear I'm going back to bed!
Til next time! Toodles!