No use crying over spilled rice - *sobs*
Feb. 21st, 2010 04:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
desperanceIn which we discover that the little shit (and yes, we all know whom I mean) has gnawed his way through the base of my rice-sack, in order to gorge himself on, um, dried raw rice. Soddit.
I may have yelled at him. With gestures. I am a bad person. But it's really getting to me, the way I have to lock every foodstuff away regardless of whether or not it is or ought to be cat-attractive. I don't naturally run that kind of kitchen; I like open shelves and larders spilling over. I loved having my rice in sacks. There is no romance in sealed tupperware.
A murrain upon him. I have shut him away with Barry, behind the dining-room door; I am going to play Joni Mitchell and paint the hallway and forget that I have cats. In, um, five days' time, they can start to forget about me...
I may have yelled at him. With gestures. I am a bad person. But it's really getting to me, the way I have to lock every foodstuff away regardless of whether or not it is or ought to be cat-attractive. I don't naturally run that kind of kitchen; I like open shelves and larders spilling over. I loved having my rice in sacks. There is no romance in sealed tupperware.
A murrain upon him. I have shut him away with Barry, behind the dining-room door; I am going to play Joni Mitchell and paint the hallway and forget that I have cats. In, um, five days' time, they can start to forget about me...