A Very Full Sofa
The weight of my eyelids is going to crack the toothpicks here any minute and then I will fall face forward onto my keyboard, snoring mightily, and the rest of this post will be xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx or possibly ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss depending on where my nose hits. Actually, I wish. Getting up in the night* several times to put your intestinally challenged hellterror out gets very old, but it’s the worry that comes with it that really keeps you awake and wipes you to a smudge. I’ve been reading some rather good cheezy science fiction** since I’m not worth much else that might be more demanding and also because it’s easier to hold your hellterror in your lap if you only need one hand to do what (else) you’re doing.*** Fortunately she’s a small hellterror. I’m feeling pretty feeble.
We’ve been to the vet twice in two days. This is neither my nor my credit card’s† idea of a good time.†† If I want to make my credit card get all hot and bendy, I want to buy books or yarn. But southdowner was here tonight with one of her reproba—I mean, one of her calm, charming, perfectly-mannered bull terriers††† and that seems to have reawoken the hellterror to her duty as a hyperactive mad thing. Who, furthermore, eats. When a hellhound doesn’t eat it’s OH NO NOT THIS AGAIN. When a hellterror doesn’t it, it’s panic stations. Okay, standing down from panic now.
I want to go to bed. And maybe, you know, sleep for a change. So I will leave you tonight with a few photos of a Very Full Sofa.
* * *
* Or possibly the morning. Focus on the ‘getting up’ part.
** But I’m not going to tell you what, because I would be fallen on in a body and pummelled to death for disrespect. You don’t want to do that, you know, I haven’t finished PEG II yet, let alone PEG III.
*** Unfortunately you only need one hand to play iPad Boggle either.
† No, I haven’t had an answer to my letter to the bank. But this should be the credit card that is correctly attached to the new account. I hope. Please.
†† Nor is it the hellterror’s. Walk into the vet’s and you’re suddenly an honorary Wookie of recently-released dog hair. I get it that a lizard being able to lose its tail is a useful survival technique, but why did evolution come up with hair-ejection as a sensible response to visiting the vet?
††† HAHAHAHAHAHAHA. As soon as you get to the ‘bull terrier’ at the end of that sentence you know you’re being had.
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