These late nights are wearing on me. We just binge-watched two seasons of the Walking Dead, concluding tonight with the season premiere from last Sunday. I never saw the first few seasons, but I think I'm caught up enough to have a vague notion of what goes on in this fantasy world. I definitely wondered aloud more than once about who cuts their hair, and at least twice they made references to it. I still wonder who spends all that time making the ladies' eyebrows perfect while they are stabbing reanimated corpses in the head all day. The show is definitely making me a bit agitated, and my dreams are getting a mite weird. I think I'm glad the marathon is over. If I only have to see it once a week, I might feel more normal.
I know the things that put me on edge lately, but I still can't figure out what bug has crawled up Rabbit's butt. She absolutely won't leave me alone. If she's not draped across me in the most uncomfortable (for me) way, purring her brains out, then she's standing below me, clawing at me or whatever chair I'm in. She is more active, more vocal than she has been in ages. I hate to suggest it, but I think she's grieving in a purely cat way. She and Zoe had started developing a real friendship, and it was cut tragically short. It's only been a year since she lost her first calico best friend. What must she be thinking? The whole Pride has been acting like she is, but Rabbit is definitely feeling it the worst. Her behavior was so far out of the norm, I considered taking her to the vet, but honestly, what would I tell them? "She wants to cuddle with me. Is she sick?" That sounds stupid. It will be even weirder for them when we have a little dog visiting this weekend, one who is allowed to be inside the house (unlike the Pack who own the garage now).
That little dog won't be coming alone. Her impending visit means that our older daughter is heading this way (or rather, she will be very soon). I'm very excited to have her here. I'm proud of her for setting out on her own, getting a real job in her chosen profession, and making her own way in the world. But I still like to have her under my roof when she consents to be with us. Her childhood passed in a flash, and I swear I must have blinked and missed the whole thing. I wish I had known then how to slow time like I do now. Maybe for my own sake, I'll go back and write down everything I remember from when the girls were little. I'll keep most of that for myself, though. Only a few highlights will be for public consumption. Might have to get permission from the interested parties to share the good stuff.
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