Somebody was bowling last night. Or maybe it was thunder. Either way, I could have probably slept through it. What I cannot sleep through is thirty-seven cats who don’t know what bowling or thunder is and are marching back and forth across my head while desperately trying to find shelter from the apparent planetary bombardment…
<digress>
Now that I am awake, or at least not quite asleep, and sitting in my Haiku writing chair while the dawn casts its murky shadows through scattered showers, I can hear the soft, rhythmic, yarffing of a hairball being discharged somewhere in the house. What fun it will be, to discover it’s secret locus, whilst walking through these suburban chambers. I don’t even know where it may have landed. Not that it matters. There is no hope of ever finding the cat-yak visually. No. These deposits are undetectable to the human eye. At least until I step in it. It is therefore my plan to remain sitting, in safety, until someone else awakes and wanders about….
Anywho! It’s Thursday. Make sure the garbage goes out. And water the plants. Should probably take a nap too.
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