This is odd. I totally want to blog, but I’m having a hard time finding words I think interesting enough to place here. I’m not bored, I’m just content and happy and tired and relaxed, and while it’s wonderful to feel this way, it doesn’t make the best blog fodder. The cats are napping in the sun, no one’s peed today (well, not in any bad places, anyway), I have plenty of TiVo cued up for this afternoon—a private screening of Underworld, even though I heard it sucked, followed by Bend it Like Beckham, because it’s so cute. I’m learning how to duplicate stitch. I hate it, so far, thanks. But it’s far, far better than intarsia.
Squeamish? Spoiler here—stop now. * I need to trim the cats’ nails. The other morning, as Adah was walking over and around and over and around (and over and around) my head at four in the freaking morning, I flipped her off the pillow, as I often do. It doesn’t deter her in the slightest, but it makes me feel better. This time, though, I got a claw through my eyelid. All the way through. It wasn’t on purpose, it was just what she hit when she went over my head. I screamed. Loudly. When I was in the bathroom washing it, the soap went through my eyelid and burned my eye. Isn’t that deesgusting? Luckily, the claw didn’t hit the eyeball at all, and I’ve kept antibiotic on it for two days, and it’s almost all healed, but still. Please. I was mad at her for a whole day, and it wasn’t even her fault. Bad me. We’ve made up now, but then she escaped this morning and came back covered in mud, so we’re still glaring at each other a bit. Teenagers. What are you gonna do?
God, I’m back to having no words. Just wanna sit on the swing outside and look at the sunny day and think about knitting and eat chips. Happy.
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