So today is a new day, the first day of me riding the unemployment train. It's not actually all that upsetting or depressing to me, in fact I'm kind of enjoying the freedom this will provide for me over the next little while as I work out where I'm going from here. So the plan for today, so far, is to do some laundry, inventory my craft supplies, and help my neighbor and bestest friend pack up her house for express moving this weekend/today. So far all I've really been productive at doing is reading web comics, cooking a tasty egg for breakfast to go with my caramel cappacino (Mr. C, my fiancé, got me a cappacino maker for my birthday this year to offset my rising Starbucks expenses), throwing one load of laundry into the wash and calling my big sister.
And now I'm probably going to have to bathe my cat.
I have two cats, one is the little black one you see in my profile picture. Her name's Lenore. She's the epidome of feline perfection, the ideal model of the stereotypical cat. With a ton of personality. The other one is named Max. And he's very... awkward. He doesn't always act like your average cat. He sleeps in the bathtub with his head under the faucet so he always has a wet spot on his forhead. He loves food, and sleep, and will often sleep in front of his food dish head in bowl Garfield style. He never eats standing up. He's 20 pounds of solid cuddles, and likes to drag fleece blankets and stuffed animals around the house with him. When I opened the door to our spare room he snuck in behind me so I left it open for him, and at this point I called my sister and made said tasty egg.
The next time I noticed the big guy he was laying on his back in the living room and his entire chest and part of his stomach is pink. I honestly had a momentary panic that he was bleeding. Then I realised he was asleep and purring and content in a happy sunbeam. So I investigated the spare room to find that Mr. C had been drawing with some pastels and had left the picture on the floor. Max loves to lay on paper when he isn't shredding it, so I'm guessing he decided to lay on the picture. Theres not that much left of the picture, all the pastels transferred onto his fur instead. I guess he's more absorbent than paper.
I think this just might put a hamper on my plans. Speaking of hampers, I should really throw another load of laundry into the washer, and speaking of washing... here kitty kitty!!!