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The Truth About Cats And Blogs
Posted by Slowplum
on
9/12/2006 09:52:00 PM
As I sit typing this (hoping furiously that blogger will play nice and let me post without timing out fifty billion times) my not-so-kitten is resting nicely on my hands. Yes my hands. Because of this I keep having to backpedal and re-type some things. Why am I allowing for this to happen? Perhaps you didn't see the big sign on my forehead. It reads "sucker".
It figures that on the day that blogger gives me a hella bad time, I feel the need to post not once but twice. I'm like that I guess: Tell me I can't do something. Now watch me try.
Truthfully though I'm a journaller at the core - on top of my nine bajillion blog projects, I also have an actual diary, chock full of the stuff that I don't dare post for public consumption. One day when I'm dead someone will either publish or burn my diaries - or possibly both. Fortunately I won't be around to deal with the aftermath.
Tonight I went to the first Parent Council meeting for the kids' school. Yet again I have agreed to be the treasurer. Whooboy. Hang on to your hats. It was a decent meeting though, and a few scandalous tidbits were hinted at. This should be an interesting year.
My black hair was the topic of conversation today at work. I guess it took a day for people to register what it was that was different about me. The consensus was that it looked good, it made my eyes "pop", and um, why did I dye it again so soon? I explained that it was my Thing To Do. You know, that thing you do when you need a change, or you're bored, or there's no milk left, or you just saved a ton on your insurance. I've tried to cut back; truly, I have. I hope to keep it black for some time. For one thing, it is much easier to maintain - reds just HATE to stay on my hair. For another, it feels familiar. Black was actually the first color I ever put on my hair, way back when I was fourteen and entertained myself by subtly changing things to see how long it would take my parents to notice. It took my dad over a week . My mom noticed almost immediately - mostly because I ruined one of her pristine towels doing it.
I'm sleepy suddenly, which comes as no real surprise as insomnia has taken to visiting me more frequently. If you chronicle my behavioral patterns over the past decade, it almost always seems to be when seasons shift that I have these bouts, and mostly in the fall/winter area. I suppose you could knock it down to seasonal affective disorder or somesuch; frankly I'm too lazy to "officially" find out.
Ok, now I press the magic button and see if blogger will deny me my need.
It figures that on the day that blogger gives me a hella bad time, I feel the need to post not once but twice. I'm like that I guess: Tell me I can't do something. Now watch me try.
Truthfully though I'm a journaller at the core - on top of my nine bajillion blog projects, I also have an actual diary, chock full of the stuff that I don't dare post for public consumption. One day when I'm dead someone will either publish or burn my diaries - or possibly both. Fortunately I won't be around to deal with the aftermath.
Tonight I went to the first Parent Council meeting for the kids' school. Yet again I have agreed to be the treasurer. Whooboy. Hang on to your hats. It was a decent meeting though, and a few scandalous tidbits were hinted at. This should be an interesting year.
My black hair was the topic of conversation today at work. I guess it took a day for people to register what it was that was different about me. The consensus was that it looked good, it made my eyes "pop", and um, why did I dye it again so soon? I explained that it was my Thing To Do. You know, that thing you do when you need a change, or you're bored, or there's no milk left, or you just saved a ton on your insurance. I've tried to cut back; truly, I have. I hope to keep it black for some time. For one thing, it is much easier to maintain - reds just HATE to stay on my hair. For another, it feels familiar. Black was actually the first color I ever put on my hair, way back when I was fourteen and entertained myself by subtly changing things to see how long it would take my parents to notice. It took my dad over a week . My mom noticed almost immediately - mostly because I ruined one of her pristine towels doing it.
I'm sleepy suddenly, which comes as no real surprise as insomnia has taken to visiting me more frequently. If you chronicle my behavioral patterns over the past decade, it almost always seems to be when seasons shift that I have these bouts, and mostly in the fall/winter area. I suppose you could knock it down to seasonal affective disorder or somesuch; frankly I'm too lazy to "officially" find out.
Ok, now I press the magic button and see if blogger will deny me my need.