We heart catz!!

via frumpo:

The little darlings keep our tender hearts beating...

(That kneading thing they do on your chest, which you thought meant it must be snack-time? This is secret heart massage, keeping us healthy, for the better provision of snacks!)

Progress...

Okay. Under your whips and scourges urgings and encouragements - for which much thanks! - I have done the passport thing. At least, I have filled in the form and taken it to the post office for their checking procedure, and like shewhomust been required to get new photos with my glasses off, which was - difficult, and the result may have passed muster with the nice lady but I'm not convinced that the nasty passport office won't bounce it back regardless. We shall see.

And now - what now? I could spend the rest of the day working on my retelling of Dracula, or I could spend it in sensible preparation for Going Away Tomorrow. Eastercon, and such. There is stuff to be done - but I hate going away, and much of what I hate about it is the doing of stuff beforehand.

I should at least do more paperwork, though. That paperwork that will lead to cheques: that would be good. We like cheques. Don't get enough of those, not by a distance. Worst fears confirmed: Seth and Reuben too! Send cheques! [/floraposte]

[what's the funny &-; code that will produce a < ?]

Grumble, groan, mutter...

I don't know what's wrong with me today. I have committed bureaucracy three times over, which makes three things that I don't have hanging over me to do (unless or until they all three get sent back, which is actually possible but out of my hands); I have written some, and intend to write more at any moment (if diminishing Dracula for kids counts as 'writing'; I find it oddly interesting, at any rate); I still have residual pleasures from the concert of Chinese music last night. I should be fine and satisfied. And yet, and yet I am almost entirely seized with gloom. Again. "In sooth, I know not why I am so sad; it wearies me; you say it wearies you." Story of my life, in iambic pentameter. Clever sod.

Also, the cats have stolen the cap of my thumb-drive. I'm fairly sure that this is ironic comment on the fact that I have no count 'em no properly opposable thumbs at the moment. Life is amazingly difficult when you can't trust either one of your thumbs. Just getting dressed is difficult. Buttons, zips, laces...