Of my Sunday
Other than that? Largely cat maintenance. Pan always has a hard time when I go away, because unlike Harold, he hesitates to take the lovin' from substitutes.
Harold will throw himself, literally, at the petsitter, begging for attention, while Pan will more or less sit back and say, "You're not my mother." He allows some attention, but makes it clear that it is a poor imitation. (Every petsitter I've ever had for them has said the same thing. One nicknamed Harold 'the love hog' for the way he will push in front of Pan to get the scritches.) The result is that when I get back, Harold wants extra loving, but Pan needs it. Sometimes he wants petting and scritching, and other times just my lap to sleep on.
While I enjoy spending the time with him, I do feel brief pangs for the state of my to-do list, but the bottom line is that he's more important. He's my baby, and I worry about him. I want him to be happy. And although I wish he accepted my absences better, there is something to be said for being the one person who makes someone perfectly happy.
In other news, guess what? It's snowing! According to the paper this morning, we are only a small amount behind the all-time December record, I think they said an inch and a half, and we should get about 6 inches overnight. Oh joy. I'd better get to bed and rest up for another morning of shoveling out my car. Oh, ****.
In case I don't post tomorrow, I'll say it now: have a happy new year!