Why did no-one tell me that blogging was going to be addictive?
I was already spending significant amounts of time exploring, and now I seem to have an excuse for spending more time in the blogosphere. And I am continually awed and amazed by the calibre of blogs to be found. Is blogging to become my newest obsession to join reading, gardening, the cats, cooking and, and, and...
Am I the only person out there who attempts to reason with cats? And, needless to say fails.
Jazz likes to sit in my chair. If I attempt to move him he bites. Hard. Purring loudly. He also likes to sit in the smaller portions chair. If the S.P attempts to move him, he purrs and moves over. He does not swing from himself's behind. Nor does he chase him through the house swatting and spiking. But purring. Nor does he rake him under the bedclothes.
Jewel will not sit in himself's lap. She loves mine, particularly if I am on the phone. She comes if himself calls her, and treats me with ignore. Jazz comes in when he is damn well ready.
Both of them recline in nests they have made in our wardrobe. We cannot keep them out, and any clothing we extract to wear has a patina of black fur. The doors are sliding ones, and Jazz is strong enough to open them. I have tried wedging the door shut but he just worked harder.
Why do I never learn?
In common with many people with MS, heat and fatigue are big issues. So this morning, after going to the Farmer's Market (bread, chocolate, apples and flowers) I decided to sweep the back deck. And weed. Four big bags of weeds later the perspiration was pouring off my face and I felt sick. For an intelligent person I am, at best, a slow learner.
My fine motor control is shot. Do I accept that? Do I hell. The photos above are tapestries/embroideries I took on to show my hands who was boss. They are. I swim to show my legs (which come along for the ride) who is boss. They are.
And, an unrelated question which I feel sure someone knows the answer to. For how long should a past person be referred to as the late?