Good morning, world. The new week has thrust itself upon us, and there ain’t nothin’ we can do about it. Podrick is stalking about, Pippin is hunched like a gargoyle on the edge of the TV stand. Podrick was up all night, annoying both of us in the ways he knows will get to us easiest. He stood on the dresser, knocked shit down, and attacked photos of me. He army-crawled under the blankets and pillows until he found one of my hands to suck on. I lost track of whether the bedroom door was open or closed; I woke up briefly and saw him on the bed, then woke up again to Shawshank putting him out, and finally woke up to quiet romping in the rest of the Flat.
Our Sunday was predictable. I made a huge batch of pancakes. Podrick offered his assistance while I made the batter, sitting on the counter to inspect the ingredients and watch me mix it up. Thankfully, he left the kitchen as I started scooping, so I wasn’t trying to babysit both him and the cooking pancakes. Shortly after I left the pancakes cooling on the counter, Shawshank took over the kitchen and started cooking brunch.
We went over to Shady Acres, where Shawshank was pressed into moving some things again. We ate roast and came back home to our cats. I finished cutting the second cardboard cat condo, and we chilled on the couch for the rest of the night.
Shawshank is back to work today. I’m reloading tracking on my two packages to see where things are.
