Moby's been an edgy cat. Very vocal a few nights ago. Mrrked at both of us when we were each up last night. More vocalization when we came home from shopping today, even after he got his wheatgrass, more later at the door to the hall. Lots of chasing, much affection, out on the balcony, in, out, up on the counter (unusual, he knows we hiss at him when he does that, and normally doesn't.) He's stretched on the bed, asleep but for the tip of his tail, that twitches and sways.
Mild day, vague spits of moisture, not enough to call rain.
Much needs to be done, and it continues to need to be done. Not eager to cease idleness. We got groceries, which is pretty good for us. We cannot shop for food on full stomachs, we wind up buying cookies and mustard, and not much else. So we shopped first and ate after. Still didn't get anything to make easily into lunch, which is one of our issues. D is a supertaster, and we have always had a fundamental difference in what we consider good eatin'. Add to that a mutual disinterest in food, especially in the preparation and clean up aspects, and it's amazing we ever share a meal at home. (We do, often, but it's always quite a chore.) We like a good meal, but prefer it with absolute minimum of effort. And we eat too fast. WAY too fast, comes of doing the army thing, having brothers, never having time to eat. We just don't savor.
My Aunt Alma claimed some people eat to live, others live to eat. She was one of the latter. We are both of the former. Not really going to change.
Labels: just whining