This is a very interesting pile o' cat. Instead of curling up on my lap, Simon curled up on the sofa and wound up in this sort of pretzel-pose. He was so deeply asleep he never even noticed the flash going off.
Today his favorite spot has been the top of the shredder. I have been cleaning out a filing cabinet and found tons of stuff to shred, so the shredder has been busy a good part of the day. It overheats and shuts itself off, which means it makes a nice warm spot for a kitty tummy. Of course, it also means that the shredder doesn't cool off quite as quickly, but after all, what's important here anyway?
I mean, the trash cans are full--well, the four "good" cans are. Am I the only one who has "good" trash cans--that have wheels, and handles, and lids--plus an assortment of old ratty ones with no handles, lids that don't fit, and holes in the bottom?
On those days when we've been doing a lot of cleaning and the sidewalk is lined with 11 or 12 cans, I guess it's a good thing to have that "second string" of not-so-good cans.
Meet the latest inhabitant of the Moose Lodge. Himself liked the scrawny little moose who used to show up in the beginning of Northern Exposure.
With this family, it isn't safe to pick a "theme" unless you want lots and lots of them. To this day, this corner of the living room houses the moose collection, affectionately known as the Moose Lodge. Most of the moose (meese? mooses? nah, moose!) are stuffed animals, but this guy is rusty metal. I got him in Pacific Grove on the last trip up there. I'm not sure exactly why, but it just seemed as if he needed to come home with me.
Nothing happening with Sweet Pea, yet. There's a restaurant in L.A. somewhere that serves a salad which, 99 times out of 100, results in labor--it's gotten quite a reputation. I think D5 and spouse are planning a visit to that restaurant this weekend. Yeah, I know it smacks of an urban legend, but since it's generally utilized by women who are past their due dates, there could be something in it. I'm just sayin'!