silveryscrape (silveryscrape) wrote,
silveryscrape
silveryscrape

Gah, during the seven day work week life is on hold. Dishes pile up, cat hork remains on the carpets, unless the little darlings re-eat, which I am really okay with. Bathrooms do not sparkle. Then Monday FINALLY AT LONG LAST shows up and I have so much to do, nothing but pickled asparagus in my fridge and no bills paid, and all I want to do is sit here and vegetate. Because I can.

Been letting the K's out on the deck lately, finally said fuckit and took down the KittyWalk netting and just flang back the screen door. And they haven't jumped down, but then Mal figured out a way to, I don't know, claw his way down the side of the building or something, and suddenly I could hear YEEEOOOOOOOWWWWWW and there he was, crouched in a pile of yellow leaves, tail brush-big, quivering. "How are you going to get back up?" I asked, and he hissed and growled at Munch, who was watching him with interest from the edge of the deck. That's always his stress response, so I rescued his ass and brought him back in, and now the screen is flang shut again and the K's are complaining loudly. But until I can figure out how to trip-wire the side of the house, no go. I will comfort them by singing "They call them kitties! Kitties! Kings of the ocean!" as one does, and hopefully that will help. We might try the deck again later.

Sometimes we sing "Kit-ties, kit-ties! Over the bounding sea!" Maybe that'll work better. I'll let you know.

All Hail the Age of Kirkpatrick, y'all. I'm attempting to write some 3manbus for TrickC Day at the end of the month, hopefully a Halloween type story, if by "attempting" you mean watching the leaves fall on this gorgeous windy 75 degree fall day, thinking about what all I have to do but then forgetting about it, listening to the birds squabble on the thistle sock over the deck. DUDES. I, shit. Wisconsin is beautiful. Wtf.
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