Good morning, y’all. Happy Saturday. I’m up, he’s up, the cats are up, you’re up. The gang’s all here. Let’s kick off the weekend with a fresh post. We’ve already poked our heads out of the house. The wind has died down and we had another dusting of snow overnight. There wasn’t a lot, only enough to cover up some animal tracks and force Shawshank to clean the patio and walkway.
Chaucer is trying his hardest to sit in someone’s lap. Anyone’s lap. He’s been pacing between us and staring from a spot on the pirate chest. Just give the boy a lap, already. Pippin is in the front window, keeping Chaucer off the shelf. It’s another typical morning.
We’ve decided that the cats have traded beds. I brought Chaucer’s bed up with us, with the hope that he would have something familiar to him here. He sat in it twice, but has largely ignored it since our arrival. Instead, once he warmed up to the Flat, he very quickly found Pippin’s bed. Until we got here, Pippin slept on a fabric cube footrest. At the same time, she decided his bed is the ultimate in comfort, and was sleeping in it before Chaucer was even coming out of our bedroom.
Shawshank has work today, so I’ll be home alone and forced to entertain myself. I think I can handle four hours alone. We’re not going shopping in Slightly BiggerTown this weekend. If I wanted to, I could spend the entire weekend in my Teletubbies onesie. I won’t, because TinyTown is having a flea market this afternoon. With my bright as fuck pink hair and faceful of makeup, I always feel like a bit of an oddity here in town.
The onesies wouldn’t help.
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