The Guilt

My cats have all learned the signs of us leaving on vacation (the youngest is six years old), and none of them have any qualms about letting us know they are not pleased by this ridiculousness. They all have varying reactions (the loudest will sit at the backdoor and wail for half an hour - or more - while we try to pack the car .... one of the more lazy cats has been known to sit in the middle of the suitcase, without moving, for hours at a time).

But the end result is the same for all of them. They do the damnedest to make sure we feel their displeasure at being so heartlessly abandoned. And, of course, they make sure that we feel the guilt of neglecting them. Never mind that someone, in fact the same someone for the last ten years or so, comes every day to feed them, water them, play with them (they turn their nose up at her).

I still have to deal with two large, shimmering, blue eyes staring reproachfully at me while I type this. AND I STILL HAVE THREE (and a half) DAYS!!

*grins*

Eaten Alive

As you might have conclude by the rather long silence, I have been eaten alive.

Fortunately, I met a rather nice penguin in the belly of that thing known as "Adulthood" subnamed "Library Board". The penguin had several small grade explosives tucked into his back pocket. He told me, "Forget the Boy Scouts and their preparedness. Have you SEEN what a penguin has to go through to get a little ... (censored for those oh so delicate ears of my readers)."

So, Dwayne, as the penguin was named, bust our asses out of there. *blinks* And here I am again. Unfortunately, it's just in time for me to leave on vacation.

SEVEN DAYS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

But I promise I'll share my escapades on vacation ... eventually.