Grump

Piddle. Well, it's official. I can't go to Escapade. Stupid mortgage.

And while I'm on that: stupid cat. 4am is *not* wake-up time for Misha. Hobbes agrees with me, so why don't you settle *the fuck* down and chill. Grr. Mangy air-headed fluffball did that to me yesterday, too. Only I hadn't wised yet, and as such only had 4 hours of sleep.

( *snerk* Pet squirrel. *snerk* )

House Calls

I should make house calls more often. All I did was set up her computer (ten minutes, tops) and then she fed me strong tea (I like my men like my tea - hot, and strong...ahem) with milk and cake and cookies and we chatted for an extra hour.

Or rather, all house calls should take half an afternoon and be nice and relaxing. All it lacked was a cat purring in my lap.

Next time, she's promised me lunch.