Everything but the kitchen sink - hmmmmm...and maybe that too.

A nowhere weekend...lazy, lazy weekend...just plain l-a-z-y.  Tulip bulbs waiting to be tucked into the earth, and they're still waiting this late Sunday evening.  Finally fully dressed 6 pm tonight...kind of had to since the cupboards were full of too much empty space, and I haven't as yet joined that growing group of oddies that traipse to town in their PJ's.  Just remembered I was to gas up the wheels on my way home from shopping, but I bloody forgot...I hope everyone else hasn't done the same thing...wonder how early the pumps start to get crowded...like I ever do anything that early.

As I gathered up Chloe from the vet last Friday afternoon, he had good news...doesn't appear that she is suffering from too much pain, and bad news...all that yowling, growling, and chomping of my hand seems to be more of a personality trait - one that is seen often in calicoes.  They're known to be a stubborn lot, and not easily persuaded to go against their will...and the point was given an extra boost of creditability when she tried to destroy the vet as I was shown how to apply the aloe gel to her wound twice a day...ya right.  Why is this vet always giving me life threatening tasks to do?

The not-being-in-much-pain theory flew out the window at sonic speed when quite a bit of growling was heard from behind that closed door to my workroom.  Cut her pain medication in half and decided to continue it for a bit, so I could get some sleep that night.  She didn't even notice that all the cubby holes for kitty hiding were crammed full of junk.  Do you think when she gets to feeling better, that she will make me pay for that little inconvenience to her existence?  It's not easy these days for me to crawl around on the floor trying to extricate her from some dark hole to make her do what she doesn't want to do and still remain in one piece.

Husband will be calling soon...hmmmmm...talk about husbands, I have a question that no husband should ever ask his wife if he even remotely values his life.  Husband does too much browsing of anything to do with his Thompson Contender collecting...twerks me a bit, but can't complain while he is still working overseas.  He gets bored with always working and he needs a bit of something different, so his closet is piling up with boxes on his many internet quests to have the most complete collection of silhouette shooting in the history of mankind.

He pesters until I open up each package to tell him the contents so he can leave timely feedback.  Priority mail boxes already have glue that requires one to break their fingers while trying to open them up, so why do people cover these boxes in six yards of shipping tape?  I've resorted most times to using a saw to cut off the end of the box to extricate the contents.

Opening up a pocket knife box to see if the knife was okay...it wasn't securely tucked away in the recesses of it's display case, and it flipped shut before I could blink an eye or remove my finger that was in the way.  Upon informing my sweet husband what had happened earlier that day he asked something that no man should ever ask if his brain is in thinking mode...the first thing he said was "Did you clean the blood off the knife?"  He thinks he's safe now...a month has gone by...I doubt he even remembers...but a wife never forgets...never.  

Miss Chloe's has been a bit lazy herself this weekend.  Weekends mean absolutely nothing to her, since she's not even remotely related to humans.  She doesn't have weekends, she just has days.  Weekends are for people who work...just days are for cats who mooch off of people who work.  I think she knows she's found her sugar mama, and she plans to mooch big time for the rest of her life.     

She's been improving quite nicely, and she has even given me the benefit of the doubt and not chewed my fingers off when applying the aloe gel.  She has a much bigger room now with a south window that lets in buckets of sunshine.  Her attitude seems to have brightened up quite a bit.  Spent part of the day with her to soften the reality of her prisoner status.  What to do...what to do after I've petted and loved her for an hour...oh ya...that scrapbook journal that I never make any time in any day for.  I guess I have lots of time right now.

Sunny part of day with this pic, but right now it is way too late to be spending any more time on this post, plus I've just about wrote a book here.  If you made it this far, I hope you have a frightfully delightful Halloween eve, and am leaving this slight tongue twister as my trick of the treat.  Haven't a clue what it means anymore.  I always have a huge dictionary by my side when I write my posts, and the gobbledygook word caught my eye, and I never can leave anything as intriguing as that alone.  I knew what it all meant two months ago when I started playing around with it, but that was two months ago and I'm too lazy to look it all up again.  Sleep tight...don't let the goolies bite.

The goaving gobbledygook

gobbled up the gobbet

before gulping from

the goblin's goblet.