Big cat, little cat, cat-nap, gone...
Jul. 10th, 2006 10:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
desperanceBarry has decided that he does quite like sitting on my knee when I'm watching TV, but - like every other cat I've ever known - he's shown very little interest in the thing himself. Again like other cats, birdsong will get his attention, but nothing else. Until tonight. Tonight was the start of Big Cat Week, an hour a night of wildlife TV about lions, leopards, cheetahs - mmm, cheetahs - and yes, I am a sucker for this stuff. Kitty-cats, awww...
So I'm there, he's there - and suddenly he's not there, and he's sitting a foot away from the TV and watching it intensely, and he does this for the whole hour, and then the credits come and he goes away. I do not actually believe that he has identified big cousins onscreen, but it is odd.
Perhaps he was just bored with me. I am soooo sleepy-tired at the moment. It's this final-sprint-for-the-line thing, it consumes me utterly. Yesterday was our memorial picnic event for two friends who died last year, and it was happening in the park opposite my house; I was meant to be a steward, so I'd budgeted for not working at all. But then I woke up at half-five, and what else was I going to do? So I did work, and once I'd started I really didn't want to stop. And then the stewarding business scared me, so I chickened out (I don't do good responsibility), and in the end I just drifted between my house and the park (except for the time m'friend phoned me to say there was a mad gunman loose in the area and he'd already killed four people, and I shouldn't go out of the house. So then of course I did not drift, I had to run over the road to see if they knew about this; and actually it was true-but-okay, mad gunman had handed himself in already, but it did add to the excitements of the day). And wrote five pages before the end of the party, and only stopped then because people - well, LJ-people, to be precise:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
shewhomust, durham_rambler and samarcand - came back for drinking and ultimately curry.
And then today I thought it would be a pure clean working day, but a friend phoned and suggested lunch, so I wrote three pages and feared that might be it; but was abstemious over lunch, just the one pint, and that really shouldn't touch me at all, only a pint and fish & chips hammered me completely, so that I crawled home knackered and really wanted to go to bed,or at least just sprawl in a corner with a book and declare a half-day - but I didn't, I hauled myself back up here and wrote another three pages. See, we are into the genuinely final chapter now, the end is no longer stretching away from me faster than I can write, and I ought to finish it this week. If I can keep working. But oh lordy, I am tired. Early yesterday, old and loving friends were telling me I looked exhausted; I've had another two days of it since. I have fallen asleep on the sofa, I have fallen asleep in the bath; I am now going to drag this weary carcase to the bedroom, where I have every intention of falling asleep on the futon. In order to wake at six in the morning, in order to rise, in order to work again...
So I'm there, he's there - and suddenly he's not there, and he's sitting a foot away from the TV and watching it intensely, and he does this for the whole hour, and then the credits come and he goes away. I do not actually believe that he has identified big cousins onscreen, but it is odd.
Perhaps he was just bored with me. I am soooo sleepy-tired at the moment. It's this final-sprint-for-the-line thing, it consumes me utterly. Yesterday was our memorial picnic event for two friends who died last year, and it was happening in the park opposite my house; I was meant to be a steward, so I'd budgeted for not working at all. But then I woke up at half-five, and what else was I going to do? So I did work, and once I'd started I really didn't want to stop. And then the stewarding business scared me, so I chickened out (I don't do good responsibility), and in the end I just drifted between my house and the park (except for the time m'friend phoned me to say there was a mad gunman loose in the area and he'd already killed four people, and I shouldn't go out of the house. So then of course I did not drift, I had to run over the road to see if they knew about this; and actually it was true-but-okay, mad gunman had handed himself in already, but it did add to the excitements of the day). And wrote five pages before the end of the party, and only stopped then because people - well, LJ-people, to be precise:
shewhomust, durham_rambler and samarcand - came back for drinking and ultimately curry.And then today I thought it would be a pure clean working day, but a friend phoned and suggested lunch, so I wrote three pages and feared that might be it; but was abstemious over lunch, just the one pint, and that really shouldn't touch me at all, only a pint and fish & chips hammered me completely, so that I crawled home knackered and really wanted to go to bed,or at least just sprawl in a corner with a book and declare a half-day - but I didn't, I hauled myself back up here and wrote another three pages. See, we are into the genuinely final chapter now, the end is no longer stretching away from me faster than I can write, and I ought to finish it this week. If I can keep working. But oh lordy, I am tired. Early yesterday, old and loving friends were telling me I looked exhausted; I've had another two days of it since. I have fallen asleep on the sofa, I have fallen asleep in the bath; I am now going to drag this weary carcase to the bedroom, where I have every intention of falling asleep on the futon. In order to wake at six in the morning, in order to rise, in order to work again...