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Our front porch has a second floor. I don't go out there much--the bedside table makes it hard for my not-so-young self to get in and out of the window, and I'm not that fond of heights. But despite the drought, people were setting off plenty of firecrackers in the neighborhood, and there was a breeze out there too. So I went out and sat on the porch, with a box full of long-ignored PS2 games as a table, and wrote.
It was pleasant, even if our youngest cat came out onto the porch to stare at me in astonishment. The porch, you see, is a cat place, not a human place, in her experience. And a squirrel place:
This lovely fellow (or lady) is not a pet. Somehow it got the ring from the lid to a gallon of milk around its neck. I'd feel more sorry for it if it hadn't come in the window in the TV room that we have open for the cats (so they can jump over to the porch) and stolen some of my expensive honey-roasted nuts, leaving quite a mess in the windowsill in the process. That said, by this time of year, squirrels are full-grown, so while he likely has this fashion accessory for life, it doesn't seem to be bothering him any either.
However, the squirrel wasn't there this evening, just me, a bottle of water that too-quickly stopped being cold, cats, and Jrilii's quest to save snow-unicorns.
It was pleasant until my not-so-young behind started hurting, sitting on the hard surface of the porch. But then (I console myself) even in my youth, I liked pillows or at least a rug underneath me if I was sitting on a hard floor for any length of time.
Now I'm back inside, enjoying being wide awake at this hour courtesy of having slept for hours this afternoon while it was 102 degrees out. It's still hot, but not nearly so bad as it was this afternoon. Tomorrow is expected to be even hotter, but as I have to go to work, I'll be in air conditioning for the worst of it.
See you all later! Stay cool, write fantastically, and dream sweet dreams.
It was pleasant, even if our youngest cat came out onto the porch to stare at me in astonishment. The porch, you see, is a cat place, not a human place, in her experience. And a squirrel place:
This lovely fellow (or lady) is not a pet. Somehow it got the ring from the lid to a gallon of milk around its neck. I'd feel more sorry for it if it hadn't come in the window in the TV room that we have open for the cats (so they can jump over to the porch) and stolen some of my expensive honey-roasted nuts, leaving quite a mess in the windowsill in the process. That said, by this time of year, squirrels are full-grown, so while he likely has this fashion accessory for life, it doesn't seem to be bothering him any either.
However, the squirrel wasn't there this evening, just me, a bottle of water that too-quickly stopped being cold, cats, and Jrilii's quest to save snow-unicorns.
It was pleasant until my not-so-young behind started hurting, sitting on the hard surface of the porch. But then (I console myself) even in my youth, I liked pillows or at least a rug underneath me if I was sitting on a hard floor for any length of time.
Now I'm back inside, enjoying being wide awake at this hour courtesy of having slept for hours this afternoon while it was 102 degrees out. It's still hot, but not nearly so bad as it was this afternoon. Tomorrow is expected to be even hotter, but as I have to go to work, I'll be in air conditioning for the worst of it.
See you all later! Stay cool, write fantastically, and dream sweet dreams.
