Good morning, world. We’re awake and doing morning things with the cats. Pippin is just trying to exist. Podrick, bless his smooth, little, orange brain, just stepped in a water dish. I mostly crashed when we went to bed last night. I was blessed with two visits from the tiny leechboy, but we’ve mostly figured out what positions are comfy and he’ll begrudgingly accept my fingertips in lieu of my neck or chest.
This is day two of rain. It’s making everything grow. Growing shit means pollen, and pollen means my face is leaking again.
I played Balatro last night, or rather attempted to. I thought I’d change things up and set myself up on the floor. Podrick took this as the ultimate challenge. I had about 15 minutes of peace before he decided the floor was his territory and I was in violation of his rules. The remaining hour of my stream was spent trying to fend off his attacks, until I retreated to the couch in defeat.
Shawshank has work tonight. I’m too stuffy to try to put makeup on and do a shoot, because I’ll just blow my nose and ruin everything. I’ll probably play Just Dance and schedule some promo smut.
