As much as I enjoy sharing my thoughts, I like learning about other people too. I realized how much I miss the golden era of blogging while looking through Instagram (NOW OWNED BY META!). How is that, despite still being in a pandemic, everybody seems to be having an excellent time. IN NOVEMBER? Fuck off.
Continue reading “Much ado about not much.”Tag: cats
Pleasantly off-putting.
I’ve returned home now that Mr. Woo no longer requires my services. While hanging out at chez Woo, I refrained from snooping. My definition of snooping is opening doors and drawers and shuffling things around. I did none of that; however, that doesn’t mean I didn’t make a couple of casual, hands-off observations. This was my favourite:
This cat’s breath smells like cat food.
I’ll be sleeping in a work friend’s bed tonight while his partner’s in New Brunswick.
Continue reading “This cat’s breath smells like cat food.”Seclusion delusion.
I am officially a hermit!
No more coming home to Bubble greeting me by flopping around on the floor blissfully. No more catering to Enfoiré’s hunger before having him reward me with cuddles.
I no longer have pets to pet.
I can freely toss my hoodies over a chair without worrying about Enfoiré swallowing a piece of the drawstring, requiring a vet visit, as has happened before. No more waking up at 5am to the cats vaulting off me in a plea for crunchies. No more sopping up cat vomit with my socks while they’re on my feet. I can leave the bathroom door open without the cats sneaking in there to gnaw on the shower curtain liner. My electronic chargers, hair bands, and bra straps are no longer enticing snacks that need to be stored away.
Bubble was fussy and demanding, while Enfoiré had an eating disorder that ruled his demeanor. Despite their flaws, they were the best cats I’ve ever had.
Bubble. 
Enfoiré.
My sweet house and incoming Horse.
I was hoping to use my days off to write up a recap of Netflix’s Deaf U, but my laptop had other plans. The lock screen would appear for a fraction of a second before the computer shuts down. It was infuriating, although it also meant I was able to get started on this year’s gingerbread house.
Yes, it’s October. I should be focused on pumpkin spicing things up and eating fun sized-treats spookily; instead, I’m practicing Christmas in October. If supermarkets can do it, so can I.
Continue reading “My sweet house and incoming Horse.”
squaremeat.com 