Thud.

Wednesdays continue less than generally productive. 251. Still not done with 51.


Lennon's home from the hospital. He's acting like himself, though a tired, somewhat more antisocial, and a bit embarassed version thereof. He's not moving as smoothly as he usually does, but given that he had abdominal surgery, I'm not all that surprised. We have antibiotics for him, which is a barrel of cat-wrestling laughs.

Arthur's perplexed by him and hissing occasionally. They should calm down quickly enough, I hope.

Need more RAM. Need more RAM.

Today is being a Very Slow Day, at least so far. (It's taken me two hours or so from the point at which I determined I should take out some stuff to defrost for dinner to actually, y'know, do so.)

On the flip side, I painted my Bast statue. I haven't painted the kittens associated with Her yet, though I think after Lennon's recent excitement the one between Her forepaws has to be a black and white.

Lennon is still being High-Powered MegaNapMan. Mostly in the guest bedroom, which is, essentially, the coolest and most remote bit of the readily accessible house, and which also has a bed that he can get up onto without much effort. I go up and give him a rub occasionally, and he decides to be significantly more social than is usual for him when approached. (This time he followed me back downstairs.)

And now, because the brain is about at this level of high-powered gearage, a lemmification.
( Astrological Dating Meme )

Mostly a lot of enh, okay, really. (Which, if I'm having an astrological day, I'd attribute to my having a fairly mixed-up chart.)