Dear John,
You didn't come talk to me last night, so I have to assume that you expect me to act like a grown-up and learn to know my own limits without your supervision and advice. I'm beginning to think that this whole adulthood thing is overrated.

The alarm was set for 6:30, and for some reason we all woke up at 6:00. Jethro and I stayed in bed, and the cats spent the half-hour rampaging around the house, chasing each other at full speed and full volume. It's amazing how much noise two cats can make when they're running on laminate floors. And Abby is a vocal little thing. I can't tell if she's trying to talk, sing, yodel, or yowl, but she succeeds in making an amazing array of noises.
We'll see what happens tonight. After last night, I believe I'm prepared for anything they could serve up. Lately we seem to be specializing in pandemonium, punctuated with brief periods of group cuddling. If you come to visit, feel free to join us in the mammal mound. There is always a spot just for you.
Adore you,
Joan.
No comments:
Post a Comment