This morning, I saw a meme breaking down Florida’s “seasons”. February is “fake spring”. Today, at least, it’s true. We had some nice(r) weather yesterday, and I was outside for a little while. It wasn’t clear, but it was certainly warm. I was able to spin for about 30 minutes before the wind picked up too much. The rain came later in the afternoon. I had hoped for a bedtime thunderstorm, but I was out of luck there.
Unfortunately, we still have more wind to deal with today. Also, it’s pretty damned gray out. I’m not sure how much it’s going to clear up, if at all. The yard is a bit wet, and I’d need to find shoes or something. I really need to find myself some nice sandals or shoes for playing outside when it’s damp.
On the moist lawn.
I just wanted to type that out.
Mom slept in a little bit today; I was still in bed when she got up and out of her room. I heard her talking to Knickknack, quietly asking her what her problem was as they walked through the living room. Then she was louder.
“Oh, what the fuck, really?!”
That was my cue to put pants on and get out of my room. Chaucer knocked a vase full of roses onto the floor, spilling water and flowers all over the place. He also threw up, but thankfully not in the water from the flower. Mom and I think it probably happened sometime overnight and Brian left it. I wouldn’t be surprised.
I don’t have anything on today’s agenda. If today is anything like yesterday, I’ll probably sit around and do nothing of substance. Par for the course.
cats, ugh, but my wife has to have one lol. Ours is a shedding, pucking, yowling fiend…but what are you going to do 😹
Sounds about right. One sheds and bitches, the other pukes and yowls. I ask them all the time why they can’t be normal.
The cat we had couldn’t poop in his own litter box without hanging his ass over the side OUTSIDE of the box, EVERY TIME. We finally got a box that was enclosed which helped. That didn’t do anything for covering it up though, after business he’d scratch the sides, the roof, everywhere in the box EXCEPT where the poop was. geezez. meow!
That paragraph perfectly sums up Mal’s litterbox habits. He was terrible, and the toddler-bathtub sized litterbox was the only thing that worked for him.