...the legal sort. Whatever brain chemistry is happening when I find the groove. Mornings now are for writing. Coffee to noon, give or take, 800 to 1500 words. Some will be pruned away. Sometimes a fragment births a paragraph. I'll get wordy on you in a heartbeat.
After a shower, collapse. This drug, a powerful sleeping potion, comes wrapped in fur and purr.
Most of the morning, while I was in the studio, she was zooming around in her suite, fetching and mauling her feathered friends. We could hear her thumping around in and out of her boxes. Rumpus. Such a joy to see after watching her struggling to breathe.
1 comment:
So happy Sweet Pea is doing better. Sounds like her kitten energy is back. I think I am a better pet parent than a human parent. My son is 52 and has no complaints. I'm the type that says "Get a bandaid" when a child complains about being hurt. If my cat sneezes, I grab a tissue and wipe his little face.
Post a Comment