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I had the day off from hospital visiting today, since Mum's had so many other visitors and the bus doesn't run on Sundays - I needed it badly. I haven't moved today except to walk the dogs and I haven't even had the energy to Internet. I've been lying on the couch in a wet T-shirt watching Doctor Who (The Impossible Planet knocked my socks off!) and the X-Files.
I have so many friends into the X-Files, and I never got into it myself. I've seen odd episodes, but I thought it was time to give it a try in sequence. It's showing its age a little but it's a good watch - if only I could stay awake through more than an episode and a half. But that's more about the tiredness than the show.
It's brutally, punishingly hot again (70F or so. The usual warnings about telling me "that isn't really hot" apply). Just taking the dogs round the block I felt like a prawn being stir-fried. I could practically hear myself sizzle - and poor Spike is feeling it as badly as I am. It's ten-thirty at night and he's still panting. I wish I had somewhere to put his paddling pool. I wish I could revert to being completely nocturnal as my body clock is telling me to; but there's buses and hospital visiting hours - bah.
Cassie and the dogs have got to the point where she can run around the floor without the dogs chasing her. She's getting over her unnervedness at Spike's constant staring (no, it won't wear off. He still does it to Maisie after three years together) and last night she discovered that Pointer tails make good cat toys.
I think she may be further along her pregnancy than the vet guessed. She looks like she's swallowed a melon, and when I touch her her belly feels tight as a drum, and I can feel distinct kitten-shapes in there (feels like about four, but that's the purest guesswork). The area around her nipples is swollen now, too, and the weight makes her a bit clumsy trying to leap. She fell off the coffee table yesterday to her great embarrassment.
She likes to perch on the back of my computer chair, and she also likes it to sharpen her claws on. I can live with that. And I'm now being followed into the bathroom by all three of them together. One of the things they don't tell you when you get pets - you'll never piss alone again!
I have so many friends into the X-Files, and I never got into it myself. I've seen odd episodes, but I thought it was time to give it a try in sequence. It's showing its age a little but it's a good watch - if only I could stay awake through more than an episode and a half. But that's more about the tiredness than the show.
It's brutally, punishingly hot again (70F or so. The usual warnings about telling me "that isn't really hot" apply). Just taking the dogs round the block I felt like a prawn being stir-fried. I could practically hear myself sizzle - and poor Spike is feeling it as badly as I am. It's ten-thirty at night and he's still panting. I wish I had somewhere to put his paddling pool. I wish I could revert to being completely nocturnal as my body clock is telling me to; but there's buses and hospital visiting hours - bah.
Cassie and the dogs have got to the point where she can run around the floor without the dogs chasing her. She's getting over her unnervedness at Spike's constant staring (no, it won't wear off. He still does it to Maisie after three years together) and last night she discovered that Pointer tails make good cat toys.
I think she may be further along her pregnancy than the vet guessed. She looks like she's swallowed a melon, and when I touch her her belly feels tight as a drum, and I can feel distinct kitten-shapes in there (feels like about four, but that's the purest guesswork). The area around her nipples is swollen now, too, and the weight makes her a bit clumsy trying to leap. She fell off the coffee table yesterday to her great embarrassment.
She likes to perch on the back of my computer chair, and she also likes it to sharpen her claws on. I can live with that. And I'm now being followed into the bathroom by all three of them together. One of the things they don't tell you when you get pets - you'll never piss alone again!
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I have a lot of people from places like Florida and Texas on my f-list and they're always like "oh that's NOTHING, it's 500 degrees in the shade here!" And I know it's much hotter there but what, it's going to magically make me less sweaty and pissed off to hear about it? I've had to ban them from doing it.
I'm feeding Spike ice cubes. He's not a hot weather dog either, poor darling.
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And we love thunderstorms.
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Plus we had a swimming pool. That makes everything better.
thunderstorms rock. we don't get nearly enough of those. weirdly, Spike freaks at fireworks but doesn't mind thuinder at all.
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i can't wait to get to england.
70 degrees is heaven!
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no, i'm never happy.
unless there's sex involved. but at this point, i think i'm thisclose to being a virgin again...From:
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That's it. I'm retiring to England. It sounds like Heaven. Absolute heaven.
DH wanted to move to Phoenix once. We are 88-97 every day from June-early October. Phoenix is regularly over 100 degrees and can approach 110, 115 and higher.
I told him "no fucking way."
There's a reason I vacation in cooler climes. I live in a furnace. :D
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and what did I say about people one-upping me? grrrrrrr!
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My apologies for offending you. Don't remove me, I will do it myself.
You know, if someone told me it was 120 where they were, or 50 where they were, they wouldn't be one-upping me. I might be envious or commiserating, but I most certainly wouldn't be upset over it. I save that for things that really count. Like child or sexual abuse, corrupt politicans, animal abusers and other shitty things.
You take care and have a nice life. I enjoyed meeting you back when. It was fun.
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