I like yoga - it seems to get done in the dark with the laptop on the floor, so I can park myself on the end of the mat and indulge my screen addiction. I've never seen F do it before so this might be yet another 'fad'.
Observationally: She's rubbish at standing on one foot, but bends in half almost as well as I do. There is however no way she can get a knee behind her ear, and I need to teach her how to twist her spine; she's got no show of licking her shoulder blades or the backs of her knees at the rate she's going.
F has been going to work without me so I haven't been getting out so much to collect stories to report. We went to Cosmozoo on Saturday and it was a particularly bad day for being mobbed by fans. A man outside a cafe kissed me (urgggghhhh) and called me a 'king'. F told him I'm a rock star; which is my excuse (or justification) for bad behaviour.
Speaking of bad behaviour, I've had a fairly free rein about the house since I adopted them, but they have always been stern about catching me on the dining table and kitchen benches. They are both no-go zones. I've tested the kitchen bench a couple of times over the years, but F always seems to know I've done it. (You shed fur Mr T. It doesn't take a forensic scientist to work out it's yours.)
And the table - the one she cleared with a glass of water recently - well the fan (the blowy one) got picked up off the floor and parked on the table one evening while she was sewing, and I casually sauntered into range of the fan: first the ironing board, then the big carver, and when her back was turned I made myself comfortable on top of the sewing. If I looked really cute, or really hot and miserable, she might feel sorry for me.... aging rock star.....
OLD AND badly behaved. Now, where's that catnip?
ohhh catnip. I bought some home from work not so long ago and Mr Cat (my daughter's female tabby) basically made mincemeat out of it, it's only just recovering now 2 weeks later.
ReplyDeleteWhen she grew it, F used to put a hanging basket upside down over it, held in place with tent pegs that I couldn't pull out. I could nibble and rub my face in the bits that grew through the basket, but I couldn't roll in it and chew it right down to the roots (and nor could the other invading felines that it attracted into our yard - much to my disgust. It was mine - all mine.)
DeleteSounds like the the perfect life to me
ReplyDeleteYou are a rock star
Hari OM
ReplyDeleteYou have got it made, Mr T... life, that is - not the sewing project... Hugs and whiskeries, YAM-aunty xxx