Nothing like a much needed, two hour nap, to leave one feeling groggy. Unless one is a cat, and D's very old silk/linen shirt got left on the sofa. Actually, put there until I got to ironing it, which in the end, I didn't, because there was a cat on it. He does like nice fabric.
Weird, hot, cloudy day. Wispy promises of rain that I knew would be foresworn. Still, 90° (32C), has an oppressive quality.
6 comments:
Moby and D have good taste.
I bet cat claws go through old silk/linen like butter...
Lucy,
While here (all day) I got his overlong claws trimmed, to his complaint, but not refusal. He's really not a destructive cat, the occasional pull, but we've never really had any visible damage from him. We were prepared, figured it the fair cost of having a cat, but so far, five years on, nothing noticeable.
h,
Well, I think so.
Napping is a skill that I've never been able to master. Always wind up feeling worse than before.
But for cats it's not a skill... it's a career.
That is hot.
Impeccable taste in shirts.
Pacian,
It's a skill I learned in the military. I was once a terrible napper, even as a child.
mm,
Um. I buy D's shirts, because his only criteria is "blue."
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