350 words and not one more.

I didn’t manage to get up early this morning… I barely managed to get up on time. My alarm annoyed me, and it really annoyed Skittles, and then, somehow, amazingly, it managed to get turned off before I’d gotten out of bed. Yeah, that never leads to any good.

I first made it onto my computer at about 7:30 tonight, and since Pushing Daisies was on at 8, (it’s my current absolute favorite show on air–Heroes is good, but not as good as it used to be, so Pushing Daisies it is) I only ended up writing for about 15 minutes. 350 words is what I came up with, and I think it’s all I’m going to get tonight. The rest of my evening will be spent alternately vegging out, and trying to keep the cat and the dog away from each other. (I’m taking care of my aunt’s dog while she’s away for Thanksgiving… Skittles and the dog, who’s otherwise totally mellow and sweet, have not been getting along. She wants to play, on her terms, and he just wants to be left alone, so she bats at his paws and tail, and he growls. It’s not as fun as it sounds. Although now they’re curled up, tail to tail, on the couch, which is kind of cute except for not leaving me any room on the couch to, you know, vege.)

Anyway, tomorrow, I’ll have time to write.

The end’s suddenly feeling close again, though, whereas yesterday it felt very far. Odd how that works.

The Skittles category

So I’ve written about 1200 words so far today, which is fine for now, and was about to get up and go do other productive things, when Skittles came and curled up on my lap. Damnit. She’s so soft and warm and wonderful that I really hate to get up when she does this sort of thing.

So it occurred to me that I hadn’t created a Skittles category yet, which, really now, had to be remedied. So here it is now.

Skittles is my kitten. No longer a kitten, actually, she’ll always be my¬†kitten. She came to me on March 23, 2008, a date I remember because later that evening, I injured my knee, the first in a long string of (sometimes connected, sometimes not, in that crazy way life works) bad things that I went through last spring through the summer. (Hopefully it’s pretty much over now. Knock wood.)

Still, when I got her home that afternoon, which was an adventure in itself, she and I sat in my room together, my door closed to keep my roommate’s dog out. At one point, I lay down on my bed, with her curled up on my chest, and we stared at each other. I thought to myself, “this could be it. This scared, crazy little creature could be with you for 10, 15, 18 years or more. That’s a lot of life to spend together.”

I love her dearly.