Typing With Wet Paws: Second Week of January Edition
Tails up, Storm Troopers! I’m Storm, you’re awesome, and this is Typing With Wet Paws. You would not believe the stuff that is going on around here. Mama Anna is serious about this getting back to business stuff. The good part about that is that I get to snooze in my favorite bed; Mama Anna’s sock drawer. It is right next to her desk when she is working on the computer. I find he clickety clack of keys relaxing. Sometimes, she does the writing by hand stuff at the desk, but usually that is for the people bed. There are seriously a lot of pillows on the people bed. In any event, I am Not Allowed to have anything to do with the leather notebooks. I don’t see the need for a rule like that. I only scratched one cover. With the leather treatment, you can hardly tell. Anyway, let’s get on with the week that was.
There is a rumor, and I can neither confirm nor deny that a decision has been made, that Mama Anna may be switching out the fairy lights around her desk. The ones that are there right now have green wires, and the ones on the tree that they are really seriously putting away this week, they mean it, are white. That goes better with whatever it is that Mama Anna has planned for sprucing up (see what I did there?) her desk area. As long as I still get the sock drawer, I have no strong opinions on the matter. Whether or not she can actually put or get at any socks in that drawer does not matter. Also, I know nothing about how certain items from her traveler’s notebook charm-making stash ended up on the floor up to and including next to my bowls.
One way I can tell for sure that Mama Anna is into the whole writing thing is that today, while she was researching the inheritance rights of Russian women in the eighteenth century (answer: it matters which part) she actually ate part of a handful of my crunchies. She’d managed to function well enough to follow me from her desk to where the crunchies are (only hoomans can open it) but totally spaced on actually putting them in my dish. She assumed the stuff in her hand was dry roasted peanuts (a favorite writing snack) and stuffed some in her mouth. Then right back out of her mouth because dry cat food does not taste like dry roasted peanuts, and they have a very different texture. I won’t say how many bites it took for her to figure this out, but please understand this is the extent to which her brain is back in story land.
Anyway, that’s about it for this week. What’s going on over on your end?
