Okay, that at least makes me feel better about feeling worse.
Tried a little outdoor work, but anything involving bending over gave me the dizzies. Probably isn't good when all three members of the hort department are in the office on a beautiful day. And then I had to stay until 7pm for a neighbors meet and greet and give a garden tour. On the plus side, several board members said it was the first time they had a comprehensive and professional tour of the grounds. So fucking sad, I've been here for five years, and two of those board members have been here for longer.
We may be getting a new kitty tonight!
GO TEAM snuggly tabby boys!
Scrappy, after reading sarameg's post, Thunder is a most excellent name for a kitty!
Nunya was doing the thundering thing back and forth across the apartment last night. Which made me askeared that there was a critter she was chasing. Flipped on the light. She was all bug-eyed at being interrupted during her fit of insanity. She's got the great outdoors to romp in, but chooses to do suicide runs in the cramped apartment.
Wishing you a good fit, Scrappy, he sounds well suited to your household. Time is right when it is right. Even when you don't even know it.
That's a lovely way to put it, sarameg.
She's got the great outdoors to romp in, but chooses to do suicide runs in the cramped apartment.
Well, yeah. The great outdoors doesn't have the acoustics the apartment does.
Harvey loves to spin out on the wood floor. I mean, he really uses the slipperiness to full advantage. Even when he ends up sliding into things his attitude is "Again!"
Thunder is a handsome young fellow. If he is the right fit for your household, may he bring you many years of joy. And if he is not, may you know it swiftly, and may he find his right home soon.
Too much consumed snot makes me queasy. And being upright means it is more likely end up in my digestive tract than when prone.
Yep, I second this revolting feeling.
Acoustics, ahah, I should have realized that the thundering was an appealling part of the process for the cats. "Get the mouse, Murray!".
When I adopted Nunya, she was a rescue from some lady's garage, just barely weaned, and quite feral. She hissed and spit at me and we did not get along at all in the vet's office. She hated Ply on sight. Now she's my snuggle bunny who demands to get under the blankets with me and is the overeager socialite who Ply slobbers with affection even when bullied and overrun. I don't know what made me choose her other than desperation to get Ply a buddy so she'd stop harassing me to play with her constantly.
(OMG, I miss playing hide and seek where she'd attack my butt as I crawled around the house).
After sleeping most of the morning and some of the afternoon, I was feeling somewhat human, so when I realized that the neighbor's dog had already undone everything we had done to block off the hole under the fence, I walked over and asked if he could come play.
I think they had fun. [link]
Why wouldn't whipped cream for breakfast trigger it? And I swear, sometimes the dairy has been as small as milky tea--I THINK. Usually by the time I'm getting back to my desk from lunch.
