Commenting on this diary reminded me that I haven't explained how my cat is becoming A Fat Bastard. Strangely, this is only my fault in that I find it very hard to say no to her, and that I'm not fast enough on my feet. But as soon as Nibbley sees her food cupboard (which also contains MY food, so as not to offend Matt's delicate sensibilities by me taking up space in his house) is open, she dashes in, has a quick sniff around, grabs a Gourmet Individually-Packaged Whiskas Beef Dinner, punctures it with her sharp little kitty teeth, steps on it to squeeze the juice and gravy out, and sucks her dinner through the holes. And of course, as soon as we find out, we just end up giving her the whole packet, since what else are we going to do? Stick it in the fridge? This is how Nibbley got 3 Whiskas in one day, last week. Desperately hoping she doesn't teach her tricks to the new cat, when we eventually find one. Oh, and if anyone has any grey tabby kittens they want to give away, some time around August, we're here for ya, baby.
Readin' nothing. Finished my book at 4am.
Listenin' to CBC classical hour, or something. I don't know, the budgie picks the stations.
Thinkin' about Parents coming home, food, relaxing, having fun. And furniture.
Most recently I was 
