The Picture Page

Today has been a big chore day.  I spent the morning sweeping and mopping the kitchen, and came to an important conclusion: I can’t have dogs.  At least not long-haired ones.  And the only dog I want is an Alaskan Husky…so yeah.  No dogs.

Why?  TOO MUCH HAIR!  Every time I thought I was done getting the hair, there was more.  Both our (mainly my mom’s) dogs are long-haired, and they shed CONSTANTLY, regardless of temperature or season.  I know they’re doing it deliberately.  They just like shedding.  They like watching me clean it up, I think.  Okay, it is also possible that they simply have so much hair it doesn’t matter if they shed a whole bunch of it even in winter.  Maybe.  I prefer to think they’ve chosen this particular path.  Especially the little one.  He’s out to get me, any way he can.

But anyway, since I’ve been cleaning all day, and also mentally organizing the room I’m going to move into while a guy fixes the water-damaged corner that has so far prevented said move, I decided that my post today would be pictures.  A lot of my cat.  Some of my breakfast.  All with captions.  So, here we go.

This is Hershey, in her famous broken-neck-Exorcist pose.

Again.  I actually took four of these.  I am endlessly fascinated with her ability to do this.  Apparently cats are so stretchy because their skin is loose.  I'm not kidding.  And neither is wikipedia.

Then she figured out what I was doing and switched to cute instead of creepy.  Fact: all cats are capable of judging how cute they look at any given moment.  For proof of this, I suggest you go check out youtube.

When I’m at the computer, she likes to twirl around my legs for about an hour.  Then she settles down for a snooze on my laptop bag.  There’s a pillow about four feet away.  I have no idea why she goes for the bag instead, but when she doesn’t, the little dog does.  Provided he can’t find any shoes to sleep on instead.

And then sometimes she follows me into the kitchen…and just flops down on her side, like this.  Looking at me.  Pawing the air.  Mewling pitifully.  I have no idea what she’s trying to tell me.

Here’s the little dog, Chester.  Hips splayed.  Which, apparently, he finds comfortable.  I imagine that right now, he is plotting his next escape attempt, in his ongoing struggle against…being a pet.  I am not fond of him.

Typical breakfast for me.  One piece of toast, two veggie sausages, an egg.  The egg on the toast thing is called eggy in the basket in England (thank you, Miranda and V for Vendetta.)  I’m big on protein early in the morning.  Or I am now.  Round about…three months ago, I was big on sleeping early in the morning.  Ah, college.  By the way, that’s the laptop bag the animals like to sleep on.  Clearly far superior to a pillow.  And a dog bed.  And the couch.

For about a week, we had crumpets.  Love me a crumpet.  Delicious.  And we had peaches from like…a farm or something.  Also delicious.

This ends the picture post.  There will probably be more.  I have a new goal of writing at least two blog posts a week, and pictures are way easier than thinking about stuff, so…yeah.

Also, I’m thinking about occasionally signing off with a few-sentences-long recap of a dream I’ve had, so here it goes:

I was in some sort of complex composed entirely out of indoor-playground-style tunnels, with a couple of large, fishbowl rooms connecting them.  My job was to traverse the tunnels and find stuff.  Gold or people.  Or possibly a person made of gold.  Definitely an action-dream.