My living room contains two rugs, an end table and a recliner. Tilly is clinging to one of the rugs like it is a raft in a shark-infested ocean. She doesn’t like the wood floor. She tried to attack Esteban’s hand, made a jump for it and came down in a full-blown cat belly flop onto the bare floor. Grace, thy name is not Tilly. Shaken and humbled, she limped over to her little rug raft and refused to look at either of us for the rest of the afternoon. I’m certain the entire experience was mortifying and perhaps she writes about it in her little cat diary.
Dear Meme, Today I spent an eternity stalking mice in the basement for the Large Ones and yet when I tried to chastise the Furry One with a quick lashing of my backhand, I made a rather disasterous miscalculation and twisted in midair when perchance I should have turned. The results were, well, let’s just say they were unmentionable and I was forced to retreat amidst their hearty guffaws where I took solace in the only thing I can never get enough of, the delectable taste of the fur on my belly. And then there was sun, glorious sun, and I tried to put the horrid disgrace behind me. It will be days and days before I am able to be kind to them once again. I shant forget this. Now off to stare at the mesmerizing air patterns over on the blank wall. I can barely understand how the Large Ones can ignore their tantalizing dances. They… they complete me. Miao, T.
Signs your online diary has finally jumped the shark? Please see the above paragraph.
In other news, you know how I’m cursed? You know, like if I spend any money on anything that is even a tiny bit extravagent, karma will turn around and bite me in the ass, extracting an equal or larger sum from my hide in pennance? Yeah? Remember? Well, the floor is almost installed and we found out that Esteban’s truck needs like a gagillion dollars worth of repairs. Just another painful reminder that the universe wants to keep me poor.
Bah, what a world, what a world. I feel like chortling that, like the Wicked Witch of the West, which would be appropriate because I really enjoy her stripey socks. Also, she fights her battles with flowers. She didn’t try to kill them, just put them to sleep. Although, the mofo flying monkeys? That is the stuff of nightmares, my friend. NIGHTMARES!
Dear Weetabix,
Just a quick note to remind you not to wear your big floppy granny panties when the Red Baron comes to town on the same day that you wear a lovely pair of low waisted jeans. Because having four inches of blue granny panties isn’t doing anything for anyone. Other than that, you’re perfect! I totally have a crush! I make clicky noises with my mouth at you!
click click!
Weetabix
