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desperanceBarry has a quiet determination which is really kind of admirable.
He has decided that he is a lapcat in due season, which is now; all my laps are his for the duration. Which means that when he wants to lapsit, he will do so. If that happens to be at two in the morning, and I happen to be in bed, no matter.
He jumped onto my chest, as a convenient starting-point, and walked down me till he reached my left thigh, what clearly would be a lap-point if I were properly sitting up in his favourite chair. So he sat on it.
And sat, and sat, and...
Thing is, I can't actually sleep on my back. Eventually I have to roll over.
Eventually, then, I did that. To his great indignity. He made a magnificent recovery, though, climbing back up and perching on my hip until I fell asleep.
In other news, if I had thought to buy two smart new pillows yesterday, I wouldn't have needed to go wading through treacherous slippy slush for miles today in order to procure another for the other side of the bed. (I may have slept dreadfully last night, but the pillow was quite comfy and not blamed.)
But yuck, I hate this slushy stage; it's treacherous. And will be worse tomorrow, when the slush has frozen over. Give me crisp clean crunchy snow, or else clear pavements. Anything else puts me at risk. Even today I loaded up for the library, but by the time I'd reached the dentist (my halfway stopping-point) I'd changed my mind, and just came straight home after.
Which is why I haven't written much today. I could write more, but that would entail drinking more. I could just stop now, read a book, wait for the ouchies to die away. Watch a cheap movie, take a hot bath, go to bed on my new pillows...
He has decided that he is a lapcat in due season, which is now; all my laps are his for the duration. Which means that when he wants to lapsit, he will do so. If that happens to be at two in the morning, and I happen to be in bed, no matter.
He jumped onto my chest, as a convenient starting-point, and walked down me till he reached my left thigh, what clearly would be a lap-point if I were properly sitting up in his favourite chair. So he sat on it.
And sat, and sat, and...
Thing is, I can't actually sleep on my back. Eventually I have to roll over.
Eventually, then, I did that. To his great indignity. He made a magnificent recovery, though, climbing back up and perching on my hip until I fell asleep.
In other news, if I had thought to buy two smart new pillows yesterday, I wouldn't have needed to go wading through treacherous slippy slush for miles today in order to procure another for the other side of the bed. (I may have slept dreadfully last night, but the pillow was quite comfy and not blamed.)
But yuck, I hate this slushy stage; it's treacherous. And will be worse tomorrow, when the slush has frozen over. Give me crisp clean crunchy snow, or else clear pavements. Anything else puts me at risk. Even today I loaded up for the library, but by the time I'd reached the dentist (my halfway stopping-point) I'd changed my mind, and just came straight home after.
Which is why I haven't written much today. I could write more, but that would entail drinking more. I could just stop now, read a book, wait for the ouchies to die away. Watch a cheap movie, take a hot bath, go to bed on my new pillows...