The unkempt side of the room.
My own neat spot.
A cat watching from his perch.
A link about common sense.
The large red plaid fleece blanket I got so cheaply, D left on the sofa yesterday. Moby seemed to think this a bit of heaven, the SOFTEST PLACE EVER! He didn't even come sleep on us last night. This morning, I wrapped myself in it, as I washed my own robe yesterday, and it's not entirely dry. Spread my arms and enveloped D. He thought I looked like an enormous tartan bat.
A short story about a Scottish vampire, with accents and stereotypes intact, could be quite amusing. Dressed in plaid, with a weakness for golf and deep fried food, an aversion to overfamiliarity, polite and proper and almost impossible to understand because of his accent. Well, someone who is more familiar with the assumptions would do it better.