Cats are so helpful, all the time. Anytime something new appears in a room, especially when it appears on the floor, they are right there, ready to offer assistance. Back in my active sewing days, I used to cut everything while sitting on the floor. Not once did I ever do so without a cat on the fabric. Last night, the Mr pulled out one of his several carpet tubs, the plastic bins holding the dozens of carpets he brought home from Pakistan, intending to sell them here. (BTW, does anyone want to buy a really pretty rug? HMU) It hadn't been inside more than half a minute, before Jackie was camped on top of the open stack of carpets. (Harvey had jumped up too by the time I got my camera out.) In our family, we say that cats "play the on-something, on-something game." It's that instinct that sends them leaping onto piles of folded laundry. My daughter saw this picture of Jackie, and said that she was winning the game. All those layers of rugs was the equivalent to rolling a natural 20.
The rugs went on the floor, so they could be inspected and vacuumed, and naturally Harvey was all up in that. The ones that came out of the tub not needing much vacuuming quickly were covered in blush-orange and beige fur. Little helper man.
I've been closely watching the tracking progress of the bed I ordered two weeks ago. It was divided into four separate order numbers. I guessed that was two mattresses, and the base was divided into two because of bulk and weight. I got all excited when it said it would arrive by Wednesday. I clicked on a tracking number link, and it said it left Anaheim Sunday night. As of this morning, it was on the truck, out for delivery. Then I looked at all of the links. Two were on the way, two were still "being processed," unmoved from wherever they are warehoused. I had no idea which would arrive. It was the mattresses. The Mr pulled one out and unwrapped it, in order to evaluate whether this was the kind of bed he wants to haul up to the cabin. So now it's on the living room floor, puffed up to full size, just begging the cats to climb all over it.
After thirty years, and all of The Troubles (as it were), we don't do much to celebrate our anniversary these days. But we do usually go out to dinner on this day. Well, neither of us have the reckless impulse to eat in a restaurant right now, so I went and got a couple of T-bones. With my restrictive autoimmune protocol cleansing diet, I couldn't make the usual sides, so I made a mountain of veggies, cooked and raw, to accompany them. It was a quiet marking of time, which I am okay with. Quiet is fine in the time of Rona.
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