There is not much going on in the home front these days. Zachary, The World's Most Social Cat has gone off to a new foster home where they can work on his behavioural issues. Apparently it's going really well, which makes me happy. He is an awesome cat if he can just be convinced to use his litter box.
He wasn't even gone for 48 hours when the mice started running around the kitchen again, the little bastards.
So now as of yesterday we have George, who apparently was dumped outside and so is skittish and traumatised. I haven't even seen him yet, he only came out from under the bed after everybody was asleep.
Work continues to be work. I had to buy a new mouthguard last week ($700! What the shit!) because I chewed right through my old one. My dentist asked me if I was stressed out and I laughed in her face.
On the plus side my head is in way better shape than I have any right to expect. I'm kinda waiting on the other shoe to fall, but so far the exercise seems to actually making a difference. So totally worth feeling like I'm being stabbed in the knees. And
I'm actually writing again, holy shit. It's all utter crap of course, but who cares. I am making a thing! It's an ugly thing, but it's mine and I made it!
A friend recently made a post about taking up writing porn for a living. I'm seriously considering it. I mean, c'mon, Chuck Tingle
sells books, how could I possibly go wrong?
He spent the entire NYE party lounging in the comfy chair and accepting scritches with an air of it being no more than his rightful due. There were several times I walked past people who were sitting on the floor petting him and said, "You can move him you know." and every single one of them said, "No, no, this is his
chair." It was hilarious.