Blixa wrote:Oh good lord. You don't wanna know how old I turned last week.
Is "beautiful" an age?
Awwww....
As he often does, my husband put birthday gifts around the apartment for me to literally stumble on in the morning: in my slippers, on top of the toilet, in the coffee grounds/coffeemaker, all the places I hit first in a dazed stupor. Piled on the kitchen floor were a bunch of art and fashion magzines. Our cat, Blixa, had deposited his favorite toy on top of the them (this is the "naughty mouse" a remnant of a more elaborate cat toy Mr. B. destroyed long ago). The toy is stiff and filthy from being dragged through the food dish countless times; still it was a touching tribute (and much better than waking up with B. throwing it on my face to try to entice me into a game of fetch).
From the Ernest L. Wilkinson Diaries: "ELW dreams he's spattered w/ grease. Hundreds steal his greasy pants."