November 4th, 2011

pencil

aaaaand

Here I am, not sleeping. I'm achy, and itchy, and awake. (And whiny.)

I'm listening to Lucy make sure she has rearranged every grain of litter in the cat box. Now she is coming to sing of her triumph and bask before the fire. She joins Puc, who is again doing his impression of a rotisserie. It would be a lovely domestic scene if only it weren't 4am.